Uric the Oddball and the Great Goblin Uprising
by Ariana Deralte
Summary: It's Uric "the Oddball" Beaufolle's final year at Hogwarts. Badgers, goblin raids, young love, demon summoning, evil vampires, new classes, and of course, Uric himself.
1. Strange News

Uric the Oddball and the Great Goblin Uprising

Chapter 1: Strange News

Disclaimer: Uric the Oddball, Hogwarts, badgers and all related characters do not belong to me. They belong to J.K Rowling. Certain professor's names and characteristics belong to the group Rockapella. All other characters are my own. You may use them, just let me know first:)

A/N: This is the sequel to Uric the Oddball and the Wild Hunt (along with various other small Uric the Oddball stories excluding Uric the Oddball's Fantastic Adventures). You do not have to read any of those to understand this story, but I guarantee that if you like this story, you will like those as well.

The name Gundalf is not taken from Gandalf. I found the name in my history text book when I was looking for a Scandinavian name and decided to use it (though I was taking the piss out of Gandalf when I let Gundalf smoke funny shaped smoke rings.)

*****

            "Why can't humans be house elves, Ferry?"

            "I do not know, Sir."

            "Why am I the only one who can hear the words in a fwooper's song?"

            "I do not know, Sir."

            "Why don't people naturally have purple hair, or hair with green and yellow polka dots for that matter?"

            "I do not know, Sir," said the house elf in her squeaky voice. "But I do know one thing, Sir," ventured Ferry. Uric Beaufolle's face lit up with a brilliant smile. 

            "What do you know, Ferry?" he asked happily.

            "It is time for dinner, Sir." Uric nodded genially and shifted so that he fell off the edge of his golden bedspread to land in a heap on the nundu fur beside his bed. Uric stood up to his full six foot height and brushed off his robes. Ferry rushed to help him. He noticed what she was doing and took the time to politely dust her off as well. Ferry started to have hysterics about getting Uric to dinner on time.

            "Sir must brush his hair, and wash his face, and his hands. And Sir must not slide down the banister like last week. And Sir must not charm his bed to ride it like a horse like yesterday," she said in one big rush. Uric just stood there, regarding a spot behind her with his hazel-eyes. "And Sir must hurry!" This last comment finally galvanized Uric into action.

            The light-brown hair at the front of Uric's head was brushed out, while the longer hair in the back was pulled into a braid. Uric tied it off with a tiny badger tie that his friend Mena had given him for Christmas a few years ago. Uric stopped to stare at the badger and wonder if it was as hungry as he was. He would have to remember to feed it. Ferry hopped about his feet, wringing her hands.

            "Sir will be late! There is company! Hurry!" Uric washed his hands and face in the water closet attached to his room, then stared frowning at the tap. Did the water get to decide how it was going to be used? Perhaps the water drew lots to decide who ended up in the toilet? He noticed that someone was tugging on his robes.

            "Yes, Ferry?" he questioned.

            "Dinner, Sir!" she squeaked, regarding him with huge, anxious eyes.

            "Thank you." He smiled at her, then headed out of his room. Behind him, Ferry collapsed onto the floor with relief before disappearing with a small pop. 

            Uric reached the top of the main staircase. He pulled out his wand and waved it around so wildly that the tip hit the back of his hand. Mrs. Ollivander had said it was bendy – very bendy. Uric sometimes folded it up to put it in his pocket it was so flexible. 

            The waving had an effect, and the carpet coating the staircase sprung up to hover a few inches above the stone before pulling itself taunt. Uric regarded his carpet slide happily and dove on top of it so that he was sliding down head first. He narrowly avoided hitting the wall where the stairs turned. At the bottom, he caught himself with his hands and rolled neatly over his head. He dusted himself off again, and returned the carpet to its previous state. 

            The Main Hall was entered through a short, opulently decorated corridor. Uric walked down it, and pushed open one of the large wooden doors. His father and mother sat at the long table opposite him, along with a silver-haired wizard who Uric had never seen before. The wizard was very tall. Even while sitting, he towered over Uric's father. 

            Uric bowed to the table. "Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mother. Good evening, Mr-" He paused.

            "Holmstein," supplied the silver-haired wizard.

            "-Holmstein," finished Uric.

            "Come closer, Uric and sit down," said his mum. She was dressed in her best red robes, and had her hair pulled up into an intricate mass of ringlets. Mr. Holmstein had Uric's usual seat at his father's right hand so his mother had moved down a seat to allow him to sit on his father's left side instead. Uric paused before sitting down and wondered if the table would be upset if he sat in a different place. 

            "Sit down, Uric," said his father firmly. He sat down. Uric stole a glance at his father. His dark brown beard sported a line of white just down the middle matching the line of white that had appeared across his father's head in the past few years. Uric wondered if he should start growing a beard, like his father. He tried to picture himself with a beard, but he couldn't stop thinking about his theory of using beards as pet cages. It certainly would be easier to carry his bird-lizard, Simon around. He glanced at his father again. Perhaps he should ask Mena first. 

Soup appeared in the bowls before them and Uric was glad he wore his badger hair tie, since it looked like they were going to have a formal dinner. He wouldn't have wanted to be underdressed. 

                "Looking forward to your final year, Uric?" asked Mr. Holmstein. 

            "At the moment, Sir," said Uric politely. It would be hard not to look forward to it since it was in front of him. Once it was over, he would have to look backward at it. Mr. Holmstein chuckled.

            "Try not to sound so enthusiastic young man. I bet you're worried about your BATS? They're not as bad as everyone makes them out to be." The BATS stood for Burdensome Aptitude Tests of Studies. Every seventh-year had to take them. The results determined if you were a wizard, and good results could usually guarantee a good job after school. 

            "How bad does everyone make them out to be?" asked Uric curiously. Mum started coughing, and Uric gave her a puzzled look. It almost sounded like she was laughing. 

            "Uric is at the head of his class," said his father proudly, interrupting them. Mr. Holmstein nodded.

            "Head Boy then, I expect?" he said. Mr. Beaufolle made a show of shaking his head sadly. 

            "Unfortunately, Uric was absent so much last year due to illness that the Headmistress refused to consider him for the post despite his qualifications," said Mr. Beaufolle smoothly. 

That wasn't exactly true, though Uric had learned a long time ago not to correct his father when he lied. He had been absent so much last year because he was lost in time. And his friend Louis stoutly maintained that Headmistress Kurze would have to be dead (with a stake through her heart to prevent resurrection) for Uric to become Head Boy. 

"My condolences," Mr. Holmstein said to him. Uric nodded, though he didn't know why they were being offered. The soup changed over to roast pork in plum sauce with a side of sweet onions. Uric's father changed the topic of conversation just as easily.

"So how fares the north?" asked Mr. Beaufolle. The silver-haired wizard glanced at his father.

"The islands are beautiful at this time of year, as you well know." Uric began to rearrange his food. There was a great plum sauce flood being predicted by the seers of the Onion King. Unfortunately, the Onion King was a prideful vegetable and refused to move his village. 

"That wasn't what I was asking," said his father. He patiently cut up his pork while waiting for Mr. Holmstein to answer. Uric cut up his pork as well. The plum flood would carry huge boulders that would smash the Onion King's kingdom to pieces. 

"There's been an unusual crop of the Purple Primula this year. My wife's been very pleased." Mr. Holmstein waved his fork at Uric's mother. "These onions are delicious, Lydia. You must train your house elves well." 

"Nothing like your wife's sage chicken," she responded. Uric noticed his father looked annoyed. The Onion King was annoyed as well, up until the point where Uric ate him. 

"This isn't news to be discussed over good food," said Mr. Holmstein cheerfully. "You've always been so impatient, Alaistair."

"After the meal then, Gundalf," said his father curtly. Mr. Holmstein didn't seem to mind. 

"Have I told you about the summer your father spent at our castle when he was younger?" he asked Uric. Uric didn't see how he could have since they had never met before. He told Mr. Holmstein so, then wondered why the man laughed. 

They were entertained for the rest of the meal by Mr. Holmstein's tales about Uric's father's time on the Isle of Leodhais. His father seemed to want to pretend they didn't exist as they discussed him messing with Mr. Holmstein's cattle herds and playing with monsters. It made Uric wonder why his father was so angry with him when he ended up playing with monsters. At least Uric had never baited a dragon in its own cave. 

When those tales ran out, they were told about how Mr. Holmstein's ancestors came to the island. An unsuccessful wizard turned raider had accompanied one of the Norse expeditions, then settled on the isle with a hedge witch as his wife. Their children were not as unsuccessful at wizarding, and their lands prospered until the present day. 

"We have met once, young man," said Mr. Holmstein near the end of their pudding. Uric looked up from where he was carefully edging his plate away from him. The pudding had been looking at him funny. "You were on Leodhais for a week when you were four." Uric tried very hard to remember.

"Was there a pot of sage honey there?" he asked. Mr. Holmstein gave him an odd look.

"No. I don't think so," he responded. 

"Then I was there," said Uric happily. Next to him, he could hear his father sigh. Mr. Holmstein just laughed.

"Well, our cats certainly remember you. There hasn't been a one born without two tails since you gave old Barnacles two to help him balance." 

"I'm sorry, Gundalf," said Uric's mother. Mr. Holmstein shook his head.

"It's no trouble, dear. You should see the muggle's faces whenever they catch a glimpse of one though. Next they'll be saying we're witches," he said with a straight face. 

"Is Mr. Barnacles okay?" asked Uric. He remembered that cat. It had been huge with blackish-brown fur that was missing in great patches all over his body. One brilliant yellow eye had stared at him out of a face that was a mass of scratches as it limped towards him on three legs, hissing a menacing warning. Mr. Barnacles hadn't seemed to know what to do when Uric hugged him tightly and called him a pretty kitty. 

"I'm sorry, Uric. Barnacles wandered off the land one day. Some animals do that when they know they're going to die." 

"But you didn't see him die?" asked Uric.

"No. I didn't," responded Mr. Holmstein. Uric gave him a smile.

"Then he's not dead. No cat is dead until you see it dead." And that was the truth as far as Uric was concerned. 

Uric's father pushed his plate away and stood up, signalling the end of their meal. A house elf, Olly by name, appeared in front of the table.

"Will Sirs and Madam be wanting anything else?" he asked in a squeaky voice. 

"Brandy and water in the Inner Room," ordered Mr. Beaufolle. 

"Good night, dear," said Uric's mother. She didn't like politics, despite being the wife of a Council member. She liked to retire early rather then listen to his father's friends and their talk. 

"Good night," said Mr. Beaufolle. He watched her walk out of the room. Uric made to follow her, but his father stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Stay with us, Uric. You're old enough to hear and Hogwarts is too far north for you not to know." Uric nodded. He was curious about what his father always talked about in the Inner Room. "Let's keep the comments to a minimum though, shall we?" his father suggested wryly as they headed out of the Main Hall. 

*****

            The Inner Room was in the very centre of the Beaufolle Manor. It was a circular room that could only be entered by walking three times widdershins around it. The third time around, the door appeared. Uric had thought it was brilliant when he was younger and spent days on end, running around it. He had never told his family that on the fortieth run around it, the door appears again, but this time it leads not to the floor, but the ceiling of the Inner Room. Uric had yet to decide why it did that. And he didn't want to talk about what he had found on his thousandth run around the room. 

            Mr. Holmstein and his father made small talk as they circumnavigated the room. Soon enough, the door appeared, and they all entered. The room smelled of centuries of smoke and earnest discussions. The walls were lined with old books and parchments. A fireplace crackled cheerily on one round wall, illuminating the old, ornate, and largely uncomfortable furniture. Each master of the house had added a chair since the 1400's. Consequently, the room was crowded and filled with bad taste. Uric loved it. 

            He took his seat in his favourite chair. It was carved out of wood to resemble a strange monster crouching over whoever sat in it, ready to devour them when they leant back. Uric had named it Mr. Daisy and sat in it every chance he got. His father took a seat in a green and yellow leather-backed chair near the fire, while Mr. Holmstein sat in a chair with a painting of a phoenix rising from the ashes on its back. There were three glasses, a bottle of brandy and a pitcher of water on a small table near the fire. Mr. Beaufolle poured them all some brandy, and watered down his and Uric's. Mr. Holmstein took his straight. 

            "Mind if I smoke?" asked the white-haired wizard. Mr. Beaufolle nodded his assent, and an intricate pipe carved in the shape of a man was produced by Mr. Holmstein. He lit it, drawing his smoke through the carved man's feet. Uric watched with curiosity as he blew smoke ring after smoke ring, then switched to more complicated shapes like squares and polygons. Uric had met a dwarf once who smoked like that.

            "To business, Gundulf," said Uric's father, taking a sip of the brandy. 

            "Are you alright, Alaistair? Where is that young man I remember terrorizing our cattle?" 

            "That young man had a lot more energy and idealism then I have," said Uric's father in a tired voice. "I've lost a lot of my support since Owain died and Cian has been seen talking to Nachleen too often for my tastes. If he becomes Council Head, the Council will die soon after. I can guarantee it." 

            "Well, then you'll have to train up young Uric here to take your place," said Mr. Holmstein in an attempt to lighten the mood. Uric saw his father look at him and was disturbed by the disappointment he saw in his eyes. He looked away.

            "Uric will never go into politics," said Mr. Beaufolle flatly. He poured himself another drink, not even watering it before he drank it down. "What news of the north, Gundalf?" Mr. Holmstein gave Uric's father a long look before speaking.

            "The goblins have started raiding again, in numbers we haven't seen for over fifty years. The raids are meant to look sporadic, but there's a pattern to them. Each one has hit a magical centre, either one of the natural places where magic gathers, or an enclave where our kind live. They leave few witnesses, but it seems they've been taking captives. Any muggles who see them are killed. The muggles are beginning to whisper about the return of the King of the Wights."

            "Is there any truth in what they say?" asked Mr. Beaufolle.

            "The goblins have definitely gotten themselves a new leader. Someone with twice their natural cunning and all their ruthlessness," said Mr. Holmstein grimly. 

            "And these reports? About other creatures?" Mr. Holmstein shook his head.

            "Not other creatures. Other types of goblins. There are groups of them who speak a different dialect. They're bigger, stronger and uglier. They usually lead the raids, unless their leader is there."

            "Is their leader one of these new goblins?" asked Uric's father. He had forgotten about the drink in his hand in the same way that Mr. Holmstein was forgetting to smoke his pipe. 

            "No one knows. I managed to talk to one muggle who was a victim of their attacks before she died. All she could say, over and over, was the word 'blood'. It wasn't surprising really since they had ripped her apart. It was a wonder she survived as long as she did." Uric felt sick at the horrible description. He hated that people could do things like that to anyone. 

            "What do you think their purpose is?" asked Mr. Beaufolle in a whisper. Mr. Holmstein shook his head so hard that his white hair flew from side to side.

            "I don't know, Alaistair. But I do know one thing. They are moving south. Slowly, but they are moving. My castle is safe against the occasional raid, but if they start massing armies like last time-" His voice caught. "They've been breeding under those hills for fifty years. Growing stronger and planning while we squabbled over unimportant issues. We should have been preparing for their return!" he thundered, slamming his glass down hard on his chair arm. Mr. Beaufolle gave him a sharp look. The lost look had disappeared from his eyes at his friend's outburst.

            "It won't be like last time, Gundalf. I will do everything in my power to stop it, as will anyone else I can gather. They won't stand aside for long once the first casualties start reaching the news. Until then, we prepare and wait for them to praise us for our foresight."

            "And if it doesn't make the news?" asked Mr. Holmstein. He was staring bitterly into his glass, looking as drained as it was. Uric wondered where the happy wizard who had walked into the room with them had gone to. His father gave the man a grim smile.

            "I'm a politician, Gundalf. If it doesn't make the news then I will. There will be no more massacres." The white-haired wizard bowed his head.

            "So be it," he murmured, and Uric shivered slightly, wondering where that sudden cold wind had come from.

*****

A/N: What does everyone think of the first chapter? Exciting enough for you? Leodhais is the present day Isle of Lewis for all who want to know. I'm going to try to keep to schnoogle length chapters for this story so each chapter will be 1-2 pages longer than your average Wild Hunt chapter was. 

I am planning at some point to write a short (let's say four chapters) story about Uric's sixth-year and how he got lost in time. I'm also planning a short story dealing with the summer of Uric's fifth-year when he goes to visit Mena in Muggle London. 

Thanks to my reviewers on the Wild Hunt: Mistri, Sailor Book/Water Mistress, NM (Narcissa Malfoy), Ozma, Giesbrecht, Gred Weasley, Indigo Ziona and Tidmag.

NM (Narcissa Malfoy): I was ROFL when I read your ps:) And I've been smiling at odd moments all weekend just picturing some of the things you described…Yes, Thacher and Beaufolle were in the same year at Hogwarts and good friends, even if their chosen paths in life have pushed them away from each other by Uric's time. I might get around to explaining how Beaufolle owes Thacher twice…and I might not. Uric's father will definitely feature in this story, though I can't guarantee too much interaction with Thacher. Stewart let his pride of house get in the way of the real world, and thus miscalculated. He wouldn't have let Varys wander around if he thought the boy would get hurt. 

Ozma: I'm pretty sure that Mr. Kurze was in Hufflepuff. You'd think I'd know since he is my character, but he does what he wants, as do most of them. I was trying to make the weird places they visited for Founder's Day unique, but I just couldn't get Gryffindor's study out of my mind so I used it anyway. I bet you Filch has found some of them… 'and then there was that old broom cupboard. I've been trying for years to get that damned snake off the wall'…I'm glad someone knows what story I was talking about. I read it in my English textbook a long time ago, when I was supposed to be paying attention to class, and it has always stuck with me. 

Giesbrecht: The satyr managed to find his way out of the labyrinth and made his way out into the world, there he found his way through an old wardrobe and…sorry, wrong story:) The satyr was fine though, even if Uric never saw him again. Thank you for your hearty endorsement on schnoogle btw.

Gred Weasley: Thank you so much, and your review was very sweet:)

Indigo Ziona: Alice in Wonderland wasn't written until the 1800's unfortunately. Louis found whatever muggle novel he could get his hands on in short notice (he got it off a third-year Ravenclaw) and didn't pay much attention to the title since Uric will read anything once.

Tidmag: Binns mention of the Goblin wars in his class is actually what inspired the main plot of this sequel, though it has since gone far beyond that. I might eventually write a story that takes place after Uric and co. graduate. Uric's Fantastic Adventures is an AU from all my other stories, therefore the Uric in that story would have no knowledge of Louis and Mena…which probably explains why he turned out to be so much madder than this Uric. 

Please review:)


	2. Joie De Vie

Chapter 2: Joie de Vie

            Uric dug his fingernails into the crevice that formed at the joining of the wall and carefully took another step. He was on the stone lintel outside the grand window in his room, though where he really wanted to be was perched on the stone eagle's head that was protruding out of the wall nearby. It wasn't his usual place to go. He preferred the hidden balcony on the fourth floor, but he had a good reason for wanting to be on the eagle's head. 

            Balanced on the stone beak, and standing as close to the wall as possible was a beautiful, multi-coloured bird. Caesar, the fwooper, had been bought a few months before by his mother. Caesar had looked at Uric with such pitiful eyes that, as soon as he was alone with him, he had taken the muting charm off the poor bird. The fwooper sang like nothing Uric had ever heard. It had taken him many hours of listening to realize that not only did fwoopers sing new and beautiful songs, but they sung them _backwards. _

            He had decided that was why so many people muted the pretty birds. They knew that the fwoopers were singing beautifully, but their minds kept reminded them that it was backwards. It could be rather confusing if you didn't know what you were listening for. This wasn't even mentioning the lyrics of the songs…

            Writing down the lyrics had been his goal for the afternoon, preferably done before his mum came looking for Caesar, but one of the windows had mysteriously opened, and Caesar had taken the opportunity to fly outside. 

            "Caesar, please come back inside. Louis will be here soon!" Louis had written him a letter nearly a week ago. 

_Dear Uric,_

_My father needs to get rid of me for the rest of the summer. Save me from my relatives, and ask your father if I can stay with you. Get him to write my father. _

                                                                        _Louis_

Mr. Beaufolle had agreed, though he didn't seem happy about it. Uric didn't know why since Louis had visited them before, though never for such a long time. His fingers were beginning to complain, so Uric moved a little further along the wall. He needed to get Caesar back inside before Louis arrived and his mother noticed the bird was missing. 

            "Caesar!" The bird looked at him, then let out a peal of song that Uric's brain translated as, "Water, cross, velocity, where, north, never, lost, pigs." Uric nodded his understanding.

            "That's a good idea, though I'm not sure why you need the persimmons." Caesar sang again. "Alright. I'll come and get you." Uric dug his fingers further into the crack and extended his foot so that it rested on the eagle's head. With a little trouble, he managed to get the rest of himself onto the projection. It was crowded with Caesar there, so he picked up the fwooper and put him on his shoulder, ignoring the squawks of protest. 

            A sound distracted him then. It sounded like a dragon with indigestion. He looked around for its source. A pure black carriage swooped out of the sky, cutting across the rapidly setting sun. It was driven by an old man with wild eyes, who stood up, leaning back on the reins and holding a whip loosely in one hand. There appeared to be nothing attached to the other end of the reins, but as Uric watched, the driver shouted a particularly nasty word and cracked his whip in front of him. There was a harsh scream, and for a moment, two frothing, black, winged horses appeared, galloping madly. A second later they were invisible again. Uric felt sorry for the poor thestrals. 

            The carriage landed smoothly on the road leading up to the manor, and ground to a halt near the front doors. Uric absently stroked Caesar, who was crooning softly about the air speed velocity of thestrals and tried to look inside the carriage. Its curtains were black and it was impossible to tell who was inside. Uric wondered if perhaps it was the coach itself that had come to visit the Beaufolle Manor, though his father hadn't mentioned being acquainted with any sentient coaches.

            The coach door opened, and Louis got out quickly, shutting the door behind him. He was slightly shorter than Uric, with long, black hair that he usually tied back. His pale skin looked rather sickly in the dying sunlight. Louis headed purposefully towards the front door, but stopped before he got there and looked curiously up at Uric. 

            "Should I ask what you're doing up there, Uric?" he called. 

            "Caesar's afraid of heights," Uric yelled back. Louis stared at him, and Uric could see him blinking. 

            "What an unfortunate circumstance for a bird," Uric heard him mutter, before he raised his voice. "You better get inside before my father gets out here," Louis yelled. He looked back at the black carriage. "Quickly!" Uric looked around him. How could he get inside quickly? Caesar started singing again and Uric had an idea. He took out his wand and manoeuvred it around to point at the wall behind him. 

            "_Portcreo!" That should work. The stones shivered, than shifted sideways, folding in on themselves to create a crude door. It opened into his room, and he ducked through before it disappeared. The Beaufolle Manor didn't like to be transfigured. _

            He settled Caesar on his bed and redid the muting charm, before putting on a clean robe and hurrying to the entrance way. 

There was a strange tension in the room. His father stood with his back straight, meeting the dark eyes of Louis' father who stood more casually, but somehow gave the impression of being ready to pounce. Louis was standing off to one side, his dark green eyes narrowed as he watched the meeting between the two wizards. Uric was sad he had missed the introductions.

            "You're son has an invitation to enter my house. Not you," said his father firmly. Mr. Illiescu laughed, though it wasn't a happy one. 

            "I would spend no night under your roof, just as you would spend no night under mine. Our sons however…" he trailed off as he saw Uric. "Ah, the infamous Uric. Greetings from the Illiescu clan." Louis' father dipped his head in a slight bow, than offered his hand. Uric bowed politely back and took the proffered hand. 

            "You're hands are cold, Mr. Illiescu," he said in surprise, forgetting to introduce himself. Mr. Illiescu pulled away and shook his finger at him. "Now, now, Uric. That's not very polite. How do you ever expect to follow in your father's footsteps and become a politician if you insult the very people you need to charm?" He winked at him, than glanced at Uric's father. Uric looked at his father as well. He wondered if Mr. Illiescu was using some type of shielding charm, since his father's glare looked like it could drill a hole through armour. 

            "Well, the night is young and I must be off." Louis' father pulled on some thin leather gloves as he spoke. "Louis." He nodded in Louis' direction before he left. 

            "Do you think you can set wood on fire with your eyes, Father?" asked Uric. The anger faded from his father's eyes and he shook his head ruefully.

            "I'm afraid that's a power I don't have, Uric." 

            "Thank you for letting me stay, Mr. Beaufolle," said Louis, speaking up for the first time. Mr. Beaufolle studied Louis thoughtfully. 

            "I know what it is like to be abandoned…for the summer," he said after a moment. Uric nodded his head.

            "Yes, Mr. Holmstein threatened to bury him in a hole for the rest of the holidays if he ever charmed his herds to fly again," he said cheerfully. His father groaned. 

            "Go amuse yourselves elsewhere please. We'll be eating late tonight."

            "No pudding?" asked Uric. 

            "No pudding," confirmed Mr. Beaufolle. Uric grinned happily, than turned to Louis who had been watching the exchange with an amused smile. "I'll show you Caesar. He's a fwooper, but they don't sing half as badly as everyone seems to think they do." 

            "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said his father, heading off towards his study. Louis was still smiling as he followed Uric up the stairs.

*****

            A week later, the two of them were sitting in the centre of the fuzzy room, as Uric called it. Everything in the room, no matter the object was coated in some type of fur. The walls were lined with deer skin. The floor was a mixture of everything from mongoose to bear skins. The vase in the corner was covered in jarvey skin. 

            They were engaged in a furious game of wizarding chess. Louis had never had the opportunity to play Uric before, but he was beginning to understand why Mena had sworn off ever playing with him again. There was no sense to Uric's moves. He seemed to chose the pieces at random, encouraging them with a smile to move to the places he wanted them to go. The pieces themselves were old, and made no protests at Uric's nonsensical moves, but they shook their heads in dismay every time Louis made a move. For the third time in the game, Uric moved his queen next to one of his knights.

            "Why did you do that?" asked Louis curiously. Since Uric had no strategy, it wouldn't hurt to ask him to explain.

            "She likes him," said Uric as if it were obvious. Louis frowned at the explanation, than moved his bishop so that it was positioned to take down Uric's queen. Uric looked at the board, and moved a pawn that had been standing on the sidelines since the beginning of the game.

            "He hasn't moved for awhile," he explained before Louis could ask. Louis surveyed the board. 

            "And he just happens to put my king into check," said Louis with a touch of disgust. He was a good chess player, but it was impossible to play against someone who didn't actually have a coherent plan. Though for someone without a plan, Uric was well positioned to take him down within a few moves no matter what Louis did. Giving up the game for a loss, Louis decided to broach a topic he had been meaning to discuss with Uric for awhile now. The Slytherin within him wouldn't let him just say it right out, so he decided to approach it obliquely. "Why was your father so upset when my father mentioned you becoming a politician?" he asked. Uric looked up from where he had been tickling one of his 'dead' pawns. He looked upset.

            "Father's disappointed that I'm not going to be a politician, though I don't know how he knows that since I haven't told him I'm not going to be one. There's always been a Beaufolle on the Council. Do you think he talked to a seer?" Louis shook his head. He understood what Mr. Beaufolle was thinking. How could Uric be a politician, if he couldn't even focus on the world around him? 

            "I think you'd make a better politician than your father realizes," said Louis, trying to reassure his friend. "All you'd have to do is speak your usual nonsense and perform the occasional miracle. You'd be doing more than the Council these days." Uric gave him a curious look.

            "So you think I should be a politician?" he asked. Louis shrugged.

            "I don't see why not. Myself on the other hand…" he trailed off, hoping Uric would take the hint. Uric looked off into the distance and began humming to himself. Louis hung his head in defeat. He really should have known better than to try anything other than the obvious with Uric. 

            "I need to go to France. Paris to be more precise," he said. Uric continued humming. "Uric!" 

            "Yes?"

            "I need to go to Paris," repeated Louis. Uric nodded happily.

            "Okay. Can Mena come?" he asked. Louis had been afraid he would ask that. Where Uric could be counted on to be oblivious, Mena would ask a lot of hard questions. He couldn't go on his own though.

            "If you want her to come with us," he said cautiously. 

            "I do," said Uric. "She said she wanted to see us this summer, or else she would punch me." Louis could vaguely recall her saying that at the end of last year, in between threatening to punch him if he didn't write.

            "Alright. I'll let you know when we need to go. We have to pretend this is a secret though. No mentioning this to anyone."

            "Not even Caesar?" asked Uric.

            "Not even Caesar."

*****

            Louis nervously followed Uric out of the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't want to tell Uric this, but he had never even met a genuine muggle much less entered a whole city full of them. Paris would be full of muggles though. If he couldn't handle muggle London , than how was he going to handle exploring Paris? At least Uric had been here before. 

            It had taken all his ingenuity to get Uric to leave the Beaufolle Manor this morning without telling his parents where they were going. Uric had still managed to leave them a note, but by the time his parents read it, they should already be in Paris. It had taken even longer for Louis to convince Uric not to bring Simon.

Louis stuck close to Uric, who was walking along, peering curiously at everything. They had transfigured their robes into approximations of muggle clothing before they left the Leaky Cauldron, but a look around them revealed that both their outfits had too much colour and lace to pass as low-born muggles. Louis dragged Uric into a dark alley, ignoring the squelch of something he didn't want to identify under his uncomfortable muggle boots. He transfigured both their garments so that they were less noticeable before letting Uric go out again.

            Uric led the way unerringly through the twisting London streets. He waved cheerily at the street mongers trying to sell their wares, and nodded politely to a wagon driver who started cursing them when he almost ran them over. Eventually they left the crowded market streets behind, to enter an area that smelled as bad as their Potion's classroom after a particularly nasty accident. Louis wrinkled up his nose in disgust. 

            "Is this where she lives, Uric?" asked Louis. If so, he understood why she was always so annoyed. "It needs a good perfume charm." Uric pointed to a nearby building which had a huge deer skin hanging from a post out front. 

            "That's a tanner. They use potions to make leather for people. I told them I could make it less smelly but they wouldn't listen." Uric shook his head sadly. They walked a few buildings down and Louis nearly missed it when Uric slipped through a small door set in the brick wall. 

            It was a scene of controlled chaos inside. A huge courtyard faced inward, with people bustling to and fro across it. On one side, some muggles were fitting a wheel as tall as themselves to a carriage. From the other side came the sound of hammers on metal and the cries of the smiths as they called for the tools they needed. 

            "Shut up about the king, Everett!" came a voice over the din. "Nobody cares except for you!" Louis smiled. They had found Mena. She was on the other side of the carriage, her hands on her hips, yelling at a man who was twice her age. She wore a black stained muggle dress, and her soot-streaked, dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun. The man she yelled at walked away, a sulky look on his face. Uric came up right behind her.

            "What king?" he asked. Mena jumped and whirled around. 

            "Uric!" she yelled, and pulled him into a hug before pushing him away angrily. "Don't sneak up on me! The king's Catholic, that's all." Her eyes widened as she saw Louis. "Louis? What are you doing here?" She looked about ready to hug him if he got any closer, so Louis kept his distance. He was afraid of what he would do if she did. 

            "We're going on a trip," he responded with a shrug. Uric had taken his shrunken satchel out of a pouch and was rummaging through it. "We thought you might like to come along."

            "Where are we going?" she asked in an annoyed voice, though Louis could tell she was interested.

"France," was all he said. She gave them both an incredulous look, though Uric was busy scribbling his thoughts onto the continuous parchment book that Louis had given him for his birthday last year. It was called a never-ending journal, though as far as Louis could tell, Uric only used it to write his odder ideas down. The one time he had seen its contents, Louis had read what looked like part of a dissertation on the advantages of spending one's life upside down followed by a jumble of runic equations that had come to the conclusion that the world was made of cheese. Louis had to stop reading then so he wouldn't get a headache. 

"Why France?" she asked. 

"Haven't you always wanted to see Paris?" Louis asked. Mena nodded reluctantly. 

"Mena! Where did you run off to? Come take care of your brother!" called out a shrill voice. Mena made a face. 

"Who's that?" asked Louis curiously. Although he would cut off his arm rather than bring it up, he was sure her mother had died during their fourth year. 

"My stepmother," said Mena flatly. "She was married to my father by the time I got home." She proceeded to call the woman some very nasty and inventive names before she calmed down. "She's been even more annoying now that she's given my father an heir." 

"Mena!" came the voice again. 

"Little brothers and sisters are nice," said Uric cheerfully. 

"Maybe if I didn't have to take care of him all the time he would be," said Mena with disgust. "And she doesn't like magic either."

"Mena!" A red-haired woman appeared from inside the building with a baby in her arms. "Mena!" Mena pulled them around to the other side of the carriage.

"How long will we be gone?" she whispered. 

"Two days," answered Louis when it became apparent that Uric was more fascinated with examining a fly that had landed on his sleeve, than with answering. Mena came to some sort of decision. 

"Come on," she said, and headed across the courtyard, careful to keep the carriage between them and her stepmother. She headed for one of the forges and approached a big man with humongous arms. There was grey in the man's hair, but that didn't seem to stop him from slinging a hammer that was bigger than Louis' head. 

"Graham!" she yelled over the pounding of the hammer. The man glanced at her and pounded down one more time on the metal he was shaping before thrusting it back into the heart of the forge. He turned back to her with a smile. 

"What can I do for you, my lady?" he asked. She smiled almost shyly at him. 

"Can you tell father I'll be gone for the next two days when he comes home? I'll be with friends." She gestured at Uric and Louis. Graham gave them an assessing look, than winked at Uric.

"You find the badgers yet?" he asked with another wink in Mena and Louis' direction. Apparently he thought he was humouring Uric. Mena clapped a dirty hand over Uric's mouth before he could respond. 

"We don't really have much time. Just let Papa know I'll be alright." Graham nodded reluctantly. Uric had wandered over to a nearby barrel of water, so Graham fixed Louis with a nasty stare.

"Keep her safe," he commanded. Louis was quick to nod his reassurance. 

"She has my wand," he responded unthinkingly, than winced at his mistake. It was an old wizard affirmation, and something no muggle would understand. But Graham threw back his head and laughed.

"So that's what she's got of you!" He continued chuckling to himself. Louis stared. 

"Do you know what he's talking about?" asked Mena in a whisper. Louis was at a loss. 

"No, but we had better go if we're going to leave before your stepmother sees you. Come on, Uric." They pulled a now dripping Uric out of the smithy, and continued their journey to Paris.

*****

A/N: There is, as you've probably already noticed, no restriction on underage magic in Uric's time. The air speed velocity of thestrals comment is of course an oblique reference to Monty Python on my part. F. "port" door + L. "creo" create. The title of this chapter is French for 'Joy of Life'. 

Historical Notes: I did a lot of research for this chapter, so I thought I'd share the knowledge. If you want to picture what Uric and Louis are wearing in muggle London, think The Three Musketeers, than think of the aristocrats of the time. (Here's a link: http://www.twingroves.district96.k12.il.us/Renaissance/Town/Clothing/17thMen.html -referring to the English gentleman one…though without the hair)Thus the reason why Louis re-transfigured their clothing:) Mena's comment about the king was referring to James II who ruled for only four years and was deposed due to his pro-Catholic politics.

Since so many people asked about this, Gundalf is _not named for Gandalf. I chose his name out of one of my history textbooks when I was looking for a Scandinavian name (though I actually suspect it's Frankish/Germanic at this point…) I did, in the course of my writing finally notice that his name was similar to Gandalf and was amused that I had chosen the name unconsciously. The scene with Gundalf blowing oddly shaped smoke rings (and the fact that he sits in the phoenix chair) is therefore me, gently taking the piss out of the real Gandalf. No other similarities were intended:)_

Thanks to my reviewers: Lady Knight of Kennan, Amaliia Milan, oO_Wth, NM (Narcissa Malfoy), Gemin16, Mistri, Em, Tidmag, googoo4you, thistlemeg, Giesbrecht, Ozma, SailorBook/Water Mistress and Gred Weasley.

NM (Narcissa Malfoy): I have never read Tolkien's Father Christmas letters (though I will make a note to when I have time). The inspiration for the goblins massing under the hills came from my reading the myths of mound/barrow dwellers. (Thanks for your posts about Uric on fictionalley btw:)

Gemin16: You are somewhat close;) I'll be sure to include some quidditch so no worries:)

Tidmag: I'm not mad, though really none of my inspiration came from LOTR's. I plotted out this entire story while I was exploring cairns in Orkney. When you're alone in a tomb with only a torch to keep you company, it's very easy to believe that there might be something living within (or in this case underneath) where you are. 

Thistlemeg: Your wish will be fulfilled, though not in the way you think. Keep your eye out for my sixth-year Uric story:)

Sailor Book/Water Mistress: As far as I am concerned, The Lady is a stand alone piece. According to my calculations, the Triwizard Tournament would have happened in Uric's third year, so if I write anything more about that year, I'll have to decide what happened during it, which I just haven't thought about yet. 

Please review:)


	3. Ah, Paris!

A/N: All French is translated at the end of the story. Don't worry, there isn't much:)

Chapter 3: Ah, Paris!

             Mena ran for the toilet as soon as they entered the Leaky Cauldron, telling Uric and Louis to wait for her. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, taking in the streaks of soot that covered her entire body. 

            "You're a mess, dear," said the mirror helpfully. Mena stuck her tongue out at it. Pulling out her wand, she cast some cleaning charms until there was no sign of dirt. She undid her hair and ran her hands through it until it was relatively straight, then stared at her reflection again. It was passable. A few years ago, she wouldn't have cared how she looked, and if anyone asked, she still didn't care. But, well, she liked the looks that the boys were giving her at the smithy and at school, and it really didn't take as much time as she thought to comb her hair in the mornings, or to put on a piece of jewellery. 

            She transfigured her dress into robes of the same colour, and hoped the spell would hold for as long as they were in the wizarding world. She wasn't as good at Transfiguration as Uric and Louis, but she didn't want to ask them for their help. With one last look at the mirror, she went back into the main room of the pub. They were waiting for her near the Diagon Alley side.

            Uric was chatting happily with an old painting on the wall. The wizard inside the painting was slowly edging behind his frame in an attempt to get away. Louis was watching the scene with a faint smile on his face, but Mena could tell from the way his hand was impatiently tapping on his leg that he was annoyed. Why was this trip to Paris so important to him? 

            "You want to tell me what this is all about?" she demanded once she had reached them. 

            "Not in here," said Louis tersely. He gestured towards the door with his head, and headed for it, leaving Mena to grab Uric's robes and pull him out the door. Louis didn't speak as he tapped the proper pattern to enter Diagon Alley on the new bricks. It had been rebuilt after the Great Fire had nearly overwhelmed Diagon Alley's magical protections. Once the archway appeared, he dashed through. Mena frowned as she hurried to follow him. Louis was really upset about something. She continued to pull an unresisting Uric along since it was easier then letting him go and hoping he followed. Louis hurried down the alley, and finally ducked into a gap between two of the buildings. He was leaning against the wall when they entered, practicing his 'dark and silent' look as Mena had taken to calling her friend's brooding moods. 

"We need to go to Paris," said Louis before she could ask. Mena made an impatient gesture. She already knew that. "And the reason why is because there's going to be a meeting."

"A meeting," repeated Mena. Her annoyance made her voice very flat. "And why do we have to be at this meeting?" Louis wasn't looking at them. Instead he was staring at the opposite wall. Uric was looking that way as well with a puzzled look on his face. Louis broke off his staring contest with the wall to look at her. He didn't seem worried about convincing Uric, but then Uric was more trusting then she was. 

"I can't tell you how I know about this, Mena," he said, and there was a pleading element to his voice that she had never heard before. He was staring straight at her, his eyes serious. "But if we hear what I think we're going to hear, then I can bring this to Mr. Beaufolle's attention and maybe we can stop it before it begins."  

"What are we going to hear?" asked Mena in a whisper. Louis' seriousness was transferring itself to her. She would have felt much better if Louis had just told her they were going to Paris on a school boy's lark. Louis shook his head.

"I can't tell you until we get there." Mena stared hard at him, then came to her decision. 

"What's the plan?" she asked. Louis blinked. 

"You're really not going to ask me what I know?" he asked incredulously. Mena wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused by his tone. She didn't make _all her decisions out of an urge to be contrary. _

"I-" she began, then frowned. That wasn't what she wanted to say. She pointed to Uric and herself. "We're Hufflepuffs, Louis. That means we're loyal to our friends, even when they're being secretive bastards." Louis smiled as if she had given him a compliment, and she found herself smiling back. 

"The plan is simple," he said. "We go to Paris and play tourists for the day. The meeting will be late tonight near the Palais du Luxembourg. That's where we wait and use any appropriate spells to eavesdrop on the meeting." 

"Will the meeting like that?" asked Uric, having finally abandoned staring at the opposite wall. 

"The meeting won't mind," answered Louis. "But the wizards attending it might. We're going to have to be very careful. You'll need to be very quiet, Uric. You understand?" Uric nodded. Mena doubted he did understand, but they would have the whole day to impress the idea upon him. A thought occurred to her.

"How are we getting to Paris?" she asked.

"Portkeys are out," said Louis with a grimace. "They log them all and we can't afford to be remembered."

"Floo?" she suggested, pleased with the idea. She really enjoyed travelling by floo powder. She had only used it a couple of times, but she liked the thrill it gave her. Louis shook his head.

"Strangely enough, there's no floo connections between Britain and France. It might have something to do with their conflicting governmental systems," he said sarcastically. She frowned. No floo then. What was left?

"We can fly there on dragons," said Uric excitedly. "Or we can transform into ducks and fly there ourselves. Or we could ask the merpeople to take us across the water. Or we-" Louis cut him off.

"Or we could use the magic carpet I have in my pocket," he said. Mena felt like punching him.

"You could have told us sooner," she said. 

"We should get going," Louis said, ignoring her. "It'll take over an hour to get there at this carpet's speed." 

"Where did you get it?" asked Mena curiously as they followed out of their little alleyway. 

"It was in a cupboard in my house. My father hasn't used it in years," said Louis offhandedly. 

*****

It was the ugliest carpet Mena had ever seen, and after sitting on it for nearly two hours she had seen way too much of it. They had taken off from a small clearing at the other end of Diagon alley that was cleared for wizards with brooms and carpets. The yellowish coloured carpet had wobbled as it took off, but once they were in the air it gave them a relatively smooth flight, especially with Uric cheering it on. She would have preferred a broom, but most brooms didn't come equipped with invisibility charms like the carpet did. 

"Are we there yet?" she asked. They had left the water of the channel behind and were now flying over the countryside, but she had no idea what Paris looked like. 

"For the third time, does that cow down there look like Paris?" exclaimed Louis. She stared at him. Louis was sarcastic, but he never lost his composure. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from demanding why he was so nervous. With a muffled thump, she settled back down onto Uric's stomach, which she had been using as a pillow for the duration of the journey. Uric grunted a little at the force of her blow, but otherwise continued the task he had been preoccupied with since their flight began.

"And that one looks like a graphorn wearing a dress. And that one could be a wagon following behind it filled with drunken owls. And that one looks a lot like the Grey Lady, and that one…" Uric continued to describe whatever he could see, despite the fact that there were exactly two small clouds in the sky that were white, fluffy and not at all shaped like _anything in Mena's opinion. Uric's voice was soothing however, and the sun beating down was warm. Mena found herself dozing until she realized that Louis was calling her name. _

"Mena," he said softly.

"What?" she asked groggily. He usually poked her with his wand when she fell asleep over her notes. Of course, she wasn't at Hogwarts…She opened her eyes and looked around. She was curled on her side, her head cradled against her hands. Louis was looking over the edge of the carpet, though she could have sworn he was right in front of her a second ago. She looked around. They were alone on the carpet. 

"Uric's jumped off," said Louis over his shoulder. "He seems to have landed now." His voice sounded odd. Mena looked over the edge and was shocked at how high they were. There was a large city below them with a river meandering through it. It reminded her vaguely of London only there were a lot more grandiose buildings dotting the city.

"Where is he?" she asked. Louis pointed to a small little dot that she could just make out swimming for the shore of the river below them. "How did he survive?" 

"It's going to give me nightmares for weeks thinking about it," said Louis in a shaky voice. He wasn't a coward. He wouldn't have been able to follow them on all their adventures if he was, but what Uric had done clearly bothered him. "He made the water catch him. It reached out, like a giant hand and caught him." Louis shuddered, and Mena understood. Louis was afraid of water. She didn't really understand why, but when they were outside he always stayed well away from the lake, not even looking at it if he had the choice. No wonder he had stayed in the middle of their carpet for most of the voyage. Mena looked over the edge again, and at the tiny dot that was Uric. It was a long way down.

"Perhaps we can go down the normal way," she said, proud that her voice was steady. Louis nodded and pulled away from the edge.

*****

Uric found his wand, curled up in his waterlogged pocket, and used it to dry himself off. The water had been very nice, but a bit too wet for his tastes. His attention was caught by a dirty looking muggle sitting under the nearest bridge. The muggle was gently banging his head against the bridge behind him, muttering to himself while he compulsively pet the little mongrel dog in his lap. The dog had a bald spot where the man had stroked him so often. 

"Excusez-moi, Monsieur. Est-ce que vous savez pourquoi les bêtes n'ont pas la capabilité de parler?" Uric asked politely. He had learnt French when he was younger on the insistence of his father. Though his father had said he regretted it when he took Uric to visit his French relatives when he was nine. He was never allowed to mention his Great Aunt's beard again. The muggle looked at Uric with bleary eyes. 

"Eu? Ne mange ma petite!" He held the tiny dog even closer to himself, not even noticing when the dog bit down on his hand for squeezing it to hard. Uric decided he might get a better answer from the dog. He was addressing the question to the dog when Louis and Mena ran up. Louis was purposely staying very close to the walls that lined the river. 

"You could have come to meet us," said Mena in disgust. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to the doggy." 

"Well, the he's certainly more likely to provide coherent conversation," said Louis from his place near the wall. "I can smell the alcohol on that muggle from over here. Come on, Uric. Transfigure your clothing and let's leave." Uric looked regretfully at the dog, then did as he was told. Mena and Louis were already in their earlier muggle clothing. They ignored the drunk's sputtering about 'étrangers'.  

"Where are we going?" Uric asked curiously. They started walking along the banks, looking for the stairs to the upper levels. 

"I thought we could see Notre Dame cathedral," said Louis casually. Mena stopped walking. 

"A cathedral? Will they let us in?" She sounded worried. 

"We're wizards, Mena, not devils," said Louis dismissively. "If I've understood correctly, everyone has a right to enter a church, so unless we start waving our wands about – Don't even think about it, Uric! – we should be fine." Mena nodded reluctantly. 

"So where is it?" she asked. Louis glanced around them, then pointed at a jumble of mismatched buildings. Behind the buildings, they could just make out tall, marble spires and the edges of stain glass windows. 

"It's supposed to be much prettier inside," said Louis doubtfully. 

It was crowded in front of the cathedral. People were busy going in and out, with hundreds of little children running in between the people, laughing whenever they bumped into someone, especially when that someone started cursing at them. Uric wondered why muggles bothered with curses when they didn't actually do anything. They had to push through the crowd to get inside, though Uric nearly fell over when two of the children crashed into him at once. They ran into Mena as well. When they finally got out of the way one of them was limping from where Mena had kicked him in the shin. 

"Why is it so crowded?" Mena complained once they got inside. Louis knew that Mena spoke French, but she obviously hadn't bothered to listen. He tilted his head to listen to the people around them.

"I think it's a saint's day," he said. His French was a little rusty. His mother was from a French pureblooded family, but she hadn't spoken her own language around him since he was little. They moved down one of the aisles where it was less crowded, and it wasn't just Uric who was being distracted by the decor. 

The cathedral was beautiful. The soft light from the stained glass windows illuminated even the centuries of soot that stained the stones. The rose window especially had them staring. Mena was convinced they had used magic to create it. Uric was scolded by a priest when he got too close to the High Altar. Uric was only curious to see the beautiful carvings in the wood around it, but the priest wouldn't accept that. 

"What's penance?" Uric asked his friends once the priest had gone. Mena shook her head. She had been trying not to giggle at the priest as he attempted to explain the sacredness of the altar to a clueless Uric. Her French was actually the best out of the three of them. She had a gift for languages, which explained why she took Magical Languages at Hogwarts instead of the Alchemy lessons that the boys attended. Louis had wandered over to a small side chapel during the scolding and was staring with interest at the marble face of one of the buried patrons of the cathedral. Uric and Mena followed, surprised that the side room was deserted. 

"I'm amazed that there are no ghosts here," said Louis once they had joined him. The walls around them were embedded with small headstones and inscriptions. The inscription beside the stone sarcophagus said that its owner had been beheaded many years earlier. Both Mena and Louis jumped when the marble face came to life.

"There are, but the priests don't want to believe in us," it whispered in a deep voice. "Most of us sleep…" The marble face froze back into position. 

"Poor, Mr. Ghost," said Uric. 

"Or poor you," said an unfamiliar voice. They all turned to see a pretty woman in a scarlet dress that showed an awful lot of her. It was amazing they had let her in the church. Mena stepped forward to confront the woman, while Louis took a step back, leaning against the sarcophagus as he fumbled behind his back for his wand. He knew a dark witch when he saw one. They all had the same disturbing propensity to wear as little clothing as possible. 

"Why poor us?" asked Mena, her tone angry. 

"Because you had the misfortune of wandering in here. We had hoped to catch a few Muggle-borns who didn't know their heritage, but now we have a prize. Three almost-trained wizards, and from Britain at that. No one will miss you!" She sounded positively delighted at the prospect. Louis finally got his hand around his wand, but kept it where it was, waiting for his opportunity. Perhaps Mena would have the sense to go for her own wand, even if she did tend not to think properly when she was angry. Uric was watching the exchange with interest. He didn't seem to have realized they were in any danger. 

A movement caught Louis' eye and he nearly groaned. There were two more wizards waiting to support the dark witch. Getting out of here wasn't going to be easy. 

"What do you want us for?" demanded Mena. Her hand slid into her pocket for her wand, but Louis suffered a severe disappointment when it came away empty. The woman smiled wickedly at them. 

"Looking for this?" she said, holding up both Mena and Uric's wands. Louis' eyes widened. The children who had bumped into them outside. Pickpockets, and good ones at that. But Louis never carried his wand in the usual places. He met the eyes of the woman and was startled to see they were a brilliant yellow, like an animals. She knew he still had his wand. This was hopeless. "Now, if you children would follow me." She gestured towards a dark, wooden door in the side of the alcove. Mena stood her ground.

"Never," she declared. "Help!" The scream echoed through the tiny room. The woman's smile never wavered. 

"That would have worked if I hadn't warded this area. No one can hear and see us." Mena still didn't move. Louis was frozen by how foolish she was being, but then he saw her hands, which were usually clenched in fists when she was angry. They were pointing at him. What did she want him to do? 

"You're just going to kill us anyway. You can do it here," said Mena, her hands still pointing. The dark witch started laughing. Uric stopped looking at her, and focused on Mena's hands. He was frowning. 

"But we need your blood for our ceremony," said the dark witch seriously once she had calmed down. "You wouldn't want to disappoint me." There was a creepy smile on her face.

"Ghosts," bit out Mena, and for a second Louis was thinking that was the most disappointing oath he had ever heard, then he realized what she meant. He pointed his wand at the sarcophagus behind him and began a spell. He attempted to mutter it without moving his lips, though he was scared that he would mispronounce something. Spells to do with the dead were not to be taken lightly, or so his father had always told him. 

"Mr. Ghost! Help us!" called out Uric. He seemed to have reached the same conclusion, but since he didn't have a wand he had chosen a different tact. The sarcophagus behind Louis began to shudder. He counted silently to three, then launched himself forward. The dark witch had her wand trained on Uric, reminding him that no one outside could hear them. Many things seemed to happen at once.

Louis slammed into Mena, who fell forward and decided to take the dark witch down with her. Mena and Uric's wands went scattering across the floor, and Mena scrambled after them. A great howling could be heard and a deep crack as the sarcophagus lid hit the marble floor. A rotting corpse dressed in faded finery and missing its head stepped across Louis to shuffle towards the dark witch. The howling grew worse and the woman was surrounded by spirits. They spiralled around her nearly obscuring the view.

"The spirits who are already in here can hear us though," explained Uric to the distracted woman. They could no longer see her through the spirits, though they could hear her curses. One of the spirits of a young woman detached itself from the group and headed towards Louis.

 "We'll keep her busy, but the wards are still up. You must flee through the crypts." Already Louis could see that Mr. Ghost's corpse was failing. The swirling around the dark witch seemed to be slowing, and he remembered the two wizards who had been guarding the alcove. The crypts it was. 

"Come on," he said, and headed over to the small, wooden door. A dry smell of dust and decay wafted out of opening. Louis headed down the stone steps into the dimly lit vaults. Mena hesitated at the door, but was prevented from protesting when Uric slammed into her and they both went tumbling down the steps. 

"Thank you," called Uric as he fell. Louis saw one of the ghosts slam the door behind him. Mena untangled herself from Uric and angrily handed him his wand. Her hair and clothes were once again streaked with dirt, though Louis was sure that he and Uric looked just as bad. 

"Where do we go?" she asked. Louis looked around, seeing why she had asked. There were dark openings all over, leading in all directions. 

"Light your wand, Uric," Louis ordered. Uric did as he was told. Louis gestured at the various openings. Who knew how quickly they would break through the ghosts and the door? "Pick a path and let's go." 

*****

I can't believe I haven't mentioned this yet, but in Rabbit and Jinx's story, Balance (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=599029) there is a cameo of Uric (He appears in Chapter 20 if you're wondering). The story's fantastic and very original as well so go read it:) The title of this chapter is a pun in French. If you say it out loud, it basically says "In Paris" in French. *ducks rotten vegetables* 'It was Thacher's idea! Not mine!' If you look on my author page you will see a lovely chibi of Uric drawn for me by Ayne Greensleeves:)

Historical and Translation Notes:

(1): Excuse me, Sir. Do you know why animals don't have the capability of speech? (2): Eh? You're not eating my little one! (I purposely messed up the drunk's grammar and speech because I doubt he'd speak proper French so no French grammar flames:) (3): The drunk was muttering about 'strangers' or 'foreigners'.

Most of London burnt down in 1666 in a fire that started on Pudding Lane, hence the nursery rhyme (See? Pudding Lane. Uric was right!). Everything in London was rebuilt in brick. The Palais de Luxembourg is currently where the French senate meets. In Uric's time, it was owned by one of the many French aristocrats. Louis XIV (or the Sun King) was ruling France at this time. Does this amuse anyone other then me? Up until the 1960's, you still couldn't see Notre Dame Cathedral due to the buildings built up in front of it. 

Thanks to my reviewers on Wild Hunt and Goblin Uprising: NM (Narcissa Malfoy), Giesbrecht, Tidmag, Ozma, Gemin16, o_O WTH, gjegje, Gred Weasley, Amaliia Milan, Ara Kane, Mad Potter, Terra, Apocalypticist, Jam-jackson, and Diricawl.

NM (Narcissa Malfoy): An underlying theme of this story is the family and how it effects who we are. Mr. Illiescu may hate Mr. Beaufolle, but he also acknowledges that he's a powerful Council member. Having a son who is friends with Beaufolle's son gives him a potential advantage. Not to mention, no one is really sure if Uric will go into politics, so if Louis is his friend, he would be able to manipulate Uric in the future. That's Mr. Illiescu's thoughts on the matter anyway. 

O_O WTH: Mena isn't Head Girl. She's not that studious:) Uric and co. have been to Hogsmeade plenty of times. They've been allowed to go since their third-year. They are also allowed to go on days other then weekends as well. Hogsmeade was around back then. Hermione mentions it being used as the headquarters for the goblin rebellion in 1612 in POA.  

Ara Kane: Yes, Uric is an odd name isn't it? I've always thought he was meant to be named Eric…and then his mother coughed, or something like that;) I think Hex Holmstrom does well on his own:)

If anyone who is not on the list would like an email when this is updated, please let me know in your review (and leave your email if possible:).

Please review:)


	4. Maleficum

A/N: I've had to raise the rating to PG-13 due to this chapter (for violence and gore). Just letting everyone know…

Chapter 4: Maleficum

Bones. Bones were everywhere. Stacked in piles by size and shape. Filling the small alcoves on either side. Occasionally they were on the floor as well and Mena winced when her foot came down on one. It turned to dust with a large crunch. 

"This place is disturbing," she said. She was trying to calm down, but walking through a corridor lined with skulls was doing nothing for her nerves.

"They're only bones," said Louis from behind her. He and Uric were providing them with light from their wands, though she honestly wished they weren't. It had been better before she knew they were surrounded by the dead. "That's why they're called crypts after all." Mena made a face at his statement and tried not to look at the empty gazes of the skulls on either side of them. It didn't help that Uric was lightly touching the forehead of each skull he passed and christening it with a new name.

"Geraldine!" he said triumphantly. Mena 'accidentally' stepped on his heel, causing him to stumble. Uric sent a puzzled look her way before returning to his christenings. 

The first passages they had passed through hadn't been so bad. Dark, with little side passages that were even darker still, but they were ignorable when she concentrated on her anger at that _witch for getting them into this situation. The fact that Louis had been sneezing uncontrollably at the dust in the passages had almost been amusing, except for the fact that the sounds echoed and could give them away. Uric had solved the problem with an Anti-sneezing charm culled from wherever he stored all that useless information he was always spouting._

 But then they had entered a different part of the tunnels. Water dripped down from the ceiling forming tiny stalactites that had a tendency to drip on them when they were least expecting it. In place of the walls, there were now bones, and judging by how narrow the passages had become, there were quite a lot of them. Somehow the broken looks of the brown skulls chilled her in a way that the ghosts of Hogwarts never could.

"Are there a lot of bones in your house, Louis?" she asked. Behind her, the sound of Louis' footsteps stopped, then started again. 

"You've never asked about my home before," said Louis carefully. He was right, she hadn't. Not because she didn't want to, but because he always got so…sarcastic when it was mentioned. She honestly wasn't sure why she was bringing it up now, except she wanted conversation, and despite Uric's preoccupation with the skulls, he was also leading them out. Ask him for enough concentration to carry on a coherent conversation and she might distract him from whatever was telling him the proper direction to get them out of here. 

"I'm asking about your house's furnishings. From the way you talk about them, I'd expect your family to hang skulls on the main doors," she said crossly. Louis let out a short laugh.

"My family's house in Britain is well furnished with tasteful art from the past millennium, more portraits than I have ancestors, and a plethora of house elves to administer to it all. The only sign of something as distasteful as skulls and bones is the still bloody axe that beheaded my great great grandfather that's still hanging in one of the corridors." There was pride and scorn in Louis' voice. "Oh, and my family itself. Surely a sign of something distasteful if I ever saw one. Uric, are we any closer to the surface?"

"No," Uric replied. Mena tried not to groan.

"Are you even trying to get us out of here?" she asked. Uric nodded a few times and Mena took that as a yes until she saw that he was nodding at one of the nearby skulls. She drew her wand, and strode determinedly forward, intent on taking the lead and getting them out of here. Louis' hand on her shoulder stopped her. He turned her around to face him, his fingernails digging into her shoulders. 

"Stop it! They've been using these tunnels since Roman times. They go on for miles. Neither you nor I have any idea where we are." He held up his hand to forestall her speaking. "And I admit, neither does Uric. But he doesn't need to know to find us a way out, and you know that." He was right, and she found herself staring down at the ground in defeat. 

"Why didn't they chase us, Louis? She was going to take us down here anyway. Why abandon us unless they knew it was hopeless?" She was having trouble keeping the despair out of her voice. Louis' face was expressionless, and he didn't answer. It was always a bad sign when not even Louis could figure out what was happening. She sighed, and shook off his hands. Keeping her eyes focused on Uric's back, she started walking again.

*****

Uric wished the bones would stop talking to him. He wouldn't have minded usually, but there were so many of them and they weren't being nice. Their voices were clamouring over and over for attention and he couldn't please all of them. His friends wanted him to find a way out, and he would, but the voices…He frowned. He was going to have to be rude.

"Quiet!" he ordered. The bones fell silent, and Uric could hear the slight sound of his friends breathing and the scuffle of their footsteps. Far ahead of them, there was a skittering in the darkness. Uric wondered what had caused it. Perhaps it was a Mooncalf? He had heard they liked dark, underground places, though he suspected the talking bones might keep them away.

"Not that it matters, Uric," said Louis from the back of their little group. "But neither of us were talking." 

"The bones were."

"Oh," said Louis after a moment. "I trust they've stopped then?" Uric nodded.

"We need to hurry though. They said it was a long way out." And that it was impossible to escape. But that was silly. After all someone had to put the bones there in the first place, and they couldn't have gotten here on their own. Unless bones could walk…He would have to check up on that. 

Louis started speaking again, but Uric didn't hear him. He was focused on his wand hand. It was thrust out in front of him, and the light illuminated only more bones. But his hand was telling him differently. The warm current of air he had been feeling for a long time now had intensified, but it was mixed in with a sharp cold that made the hairs on his hand stand up. 

He took a few steps forward, then frowned at what the light from his wand revealed. The passage stretched off at right angles from where they stood, and in the centre of it was the body of a young boy, a few years younger than they were. He was wearing Muggle clothing like all those children he had seen playing in the square outside the cathedral. Mena gasped, and pushed past him to kneel in front of the boy. Uric could see that the boy had tears drying across his face. One hand was digging into the hard floor of the passage with the other stretched out before him. It looked like he had been pulling himself down the right hand corridor when he died.

"Poor Luc," said Uric softly. 

"What killed him?" demanded Mena. She was biting her lip, and looking wildly between Uric and Louis. Uric looked at Louis, and saw that he was staring down at the Luc. His wand was hanging limply at his side, its light extinguished. After a moment, Louis shook himself and transferred his gaze to a point on the wall. 

"We need to go," said Louis. "Which way, Uric?" Uric frowned and looked at his hand for a moment before pointing down the left hand corridor. 

"He was running from whatever is down there," protested Mena angrily. "It'll be no use making it to the surface if we die in the process." 

"Well, we won't make it to the surface if we die-" began Uric, but Louis cut him off. 

"Is this our only option, Uric?" 

"Yes, if you want to leave. It's warmer this way," said Uric. Mena muttered something but the only word that Uric could make out was 'hell'. 

"Let's go," said Louis.

"Wait!" called Uric. He went over to Luc and placed his hand on the boy's pale cheek. It was very cold. He talked to the rocks then, asking them for a favour and giving them an offering in return. Luc's body shuddered, then slunk slowly out of view directly into the floor. Small ripples disturbed the surface of the rock until it was over, and Uric was left sitting with his hand on the cold rock. He stared sadly at the rock, then used the tip of his wand to write in the floor while it was still soft. 

_Luc DeRue_

_Memento Mori_

"Come on, Uric." Mena pulled him away, and marched resolutely down the left hand corridor one sleeve of Uric's robe clutched tightly in her hand. 

*****

There was light up ahead. Uric gave it a curious look and extinguished his own wand. There had been no more bones since they had left Luc. The corridors were dry again, and empty. They rounded a bend in the corner, and faced an opening. 

Beyond the opening was a scene from their textbooks, or more accurately, from their Dark Arts textbooks. The large chamber was lit on all sides by torches made from long bones and magic. They cast a sinister air over an already sinister scene. A circle of wizards in bright red robes stood in the centre of the room, surrounding and facing an altar filled with occultic memorabilia. To Uric, it looked a lot like someone had emptied out the Advanced Potions cupboard onto a table, except you didn't use nearly as much blood in any type of potion he could think of. The top of the altar seemed to move, and Uric stared hard at it, wondering why. After a moment, he could make out at least three snakes, their skins liberally sprinkled with blood and wine winding in and out of the objects on the altar. 

The room thrummed with magic. The robed wizards were chanting in unison as one of their number danced in the centre of the circle. The wizard in the centre launched into the air, levitating and spinning for a moment. They only had a glimpse, but Uric could recognize the witch who had tried to capture them earlier. Across her shoulders had been another snake and in one hand a bloody knife. This was wrong. He started forward to stop them, but couldn't go much further.  A glance behind him revealed that both Mena and Louis were using his robes to hold him back.

"You can't, Uric!" Mena was yelling in order to be heard over the chanting. It was lucky the dark wizards were facing away from them and concentrating on their conjuring. "There are too many of them." Louis nodded his agreement. Uric pulled away from them and stared frowning at the still chanting circle. Through a gap in their robes, he could just make out the body of another child like Luc lying on the floor. It hurt to not be able to do anything. 

He walked forward, and this time no one tried to stop him.

*****

            Louis watched Uric walk forward, and wondered what his friend was going to do. More importantly, he wondered if what Uric was going to do, was going to get them killed. He had his wand out and ready, as did Mena beside him, but he doubted it would make a difference if the thirty or so grown wizards decided to turn their attentions upon them. 

            "We need to stop him, Louis!" yelled Mena. Louis gave her a look. 

            "Do you want to be the one to try to stop him?" he asked. They were both aware of what Uric could do if he seriously decided to use his magic. Uric was rarely focused enough to consciously utilize his talents. It usually took their combined efforts to even get him to focus on the real world, but when he did…

            "We would only have to distract him!" yelled Mena, echoing his thoughts. Louis shook his head.

            "Not even Uric could be distracted from this!" He gestured at the ceremony in front of them. The smell of blood and incense clogged the air. Louis was having trouble concentrating, not to mention, breathing. 

He was trying to remember all the spells he knew that required human sacrifice. There were few that required the amount of power that came from extinguishing a person's life, and none that he could remember required a wizard's blood in particular. He wasn't an expert on the subject, though he was pretty sure that his Uncle Dalibor was. Not that that would help them. 

            "The Barrier!" screamed the dark witch from the centre of the circle. Her voice was hoarse compared to the charming tones she had used earlier when attempting to kidnap them. If she had succeeded, Louis had no doubt that it would now be their lifeless bodies lying in the centre of the circle. In response to her cry, the wizard's chanting reached a fevered pitch. As one they all raised their arms, and Louis could see the flash of their knives as they cut deep into their arms. It wasn't light enough to see the blood dripping at their feet, but he knew what they were doing. 

            Once that ward was up, sealed by the blood of all the wizards present, nothing living would be able to pass through. His eyes widened as he realized what the wizards were about to attempt.

            "Uric!" he yelled. "Come back!" Uric paused, and looked back curiously at him. He was too close. "_Accerso__," Louis cast, hoping to pull Uric back. The wizards finished their spell, and a near transparent shimmer appeared in the air between them, confining Uric to the circle. Louis' spell spattered harmlessly against the barrier. Mena was shouting something over the noise, but the chanting rose even higher than before. The dark witch rose up. The snake seemed to be the only thing she was wearing other than a dark sheen of blood. She clutched a black, dripping thing in her fist that Louis' mind refused to identify. She screamed out words in an ancient language that were echoed by the wizards in the circle. She screamed again, and again the wizards echoed her. The third time, she ate the black thing in her hand and collapsed to the ground._

            For a moment, there was silence. Uric pushed his way inside, past the outer circle of wizards. The red-robed wizards closed in afterwards, blocking Uric from view, but they could still hear him. 

            "Excuse me-" Uric began, as the floor began to shake. Its vibrating was accompanied by an eerie humming that grew louder and louder. The dark witch screamed again, but this time there was a note of panic in her cry. Louis blinked, and suddenly in front of the altar, was a monster. Its black skin was dripping with acid so that a hissing could be heard as the fluid dripped off its body. Contorted muscles lined impossibly long arms that ended in claws. And its face…Louis was reminded of the hounds of the Wild Hunt that the three of them had encountered in their first-year. Only there was no loyalty to a master in this beast's eyes. They blazed with the desire all these creatures that the Muggles called demons wanted – chaos. 

            In a flash, the demon moved. It ran the length of the circle, so fast that it was only a dark blur. The red-robed wizards fell apart, some of them literally as the demon unleashed its claws. Others were tossed against the barrier to fall unconscious on top of their less fortunate brethren. The barrier shimmered brightly as the infusion of blood renewed the spell, and Louis became aware that Mena had a death grip on his arm. She was staring fiercely at the circle, while all Louis wanted to do was look away.

            "What can we do?" asked Mena. Louis had no answer for her. 

It was easy to see the two children's bodies lying discarded in the centre of the circle. Uric was standing opposite the altar, untouched by the demon since he hadn't been in the circle. The dark witch stood there as well. She was petting the snake wrapped around her body at a frenetic pace, though Louis doubted she was even aware of it. The woman's yellow eyes were fixed on the demon, who had returned to its place at the altar mere seconds after it had left it. 

            "I am your Master!" she screamed hoarsely at it. "You do not hurt my brothers!" She shook her wand at it as if it were a recalcitrant child. The demon cocked its head at her words, then calmly picked up a snake from the altar and began to eat it. "I-I am your Master." She took a few halting steps forward. "I am your Master." The demon ate another snake from the altar, and it was as if someone had robbed the woman of the last of her power. She collapsed onto her knees in front of the beast, and now her tone had changed. "Please…Master. Please." She was sobbing softly to herself, and the demon left her there on her knees. 

            It turned its attention to Uric, and Louis suddenly felt as if both Uric and the demon were standing in two brilliant pillars of light. He expected Uric to say something, but for once Uric was silent. The feeling disappeared abruptly, as Uric walked forward, approaching the dark-skinned monstrosity. The ground below it was bubbling from the black acid dripping from its body. Its bulging muscles strained as it crushed one of the many skulls around the altar with its clawed hands.

"Uric! No!" screamed Mena. She darted forward to stop him, but was thrown back by the barrier. Louis caught her as she stumbled, wincing when he saw that she was smoking slightly. He lowered her to the ground and pressed his head against her chest. He started breathing again when he picked out the slow steady beat of her heart. 

Louis glanced towards the altar and was frozen by what he saw. The demon had its beastly face quite close to Uric's. It was bellowing out words in some language Louis couldn't understand, though Uric seemed to, judging by the way he was nodding and giving the demon his full attention. A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Louis' lips. Trust Uric to have a friendly chat with a demon. 

Louis looked back at Mena, then at the bloody remains of the dark wizards. He grimaced. He had to end this before anyone else got hurt. He pulled off his cloak and used it to pillow Mena's head, before taking a deep breath and stepping through the barrier. He clenched his teeth at the sensation of the barrier attempting to repel him, but continued on through. He had always known his heritage was useful for something. 

His wand was drawn, ready to confront the demon, but his foot slipped on the wet floor. There was a flash of white light and he knew no more.

*****

A/N: I've had to push the meeting back to the next chapter. The sixth-year story is coming along well (and Ozma's writing a chapter too:) Haven't a clue when it will be up though…Uric art may be found at http://www.roundtable-alliances.com/uricart.htm. And Uric, or at least the mention of Uric, has made an appearance in Narcissa Malfoy's _1975:)_

Historical Notes: The tunnels under Paris originated as stone quarries in Roman times. It was only in later years that the people of the city took to emptying their overcrowded cemeteries by storing the bones within the convenient quarries (most notably during Napoleonic times). Memento mori ("remember death") can be found on many a gravestone in the old (and sometimes) new cemeteries of Europe and the New World. 

Thanks to my reviewers on Wild Hunt and Goblin Uprising: Ozma, Springrain, Gred Weasley, Tidmag, oO_With, Giesbrecht, Jam-jackson, Apocalypticist, NM (Narcissa Malfoy), Tenpi Shojo, gjegje, Gemin16, Stormy1x2, googoo4you, The Mad Potter and The Badgers, Amaliia Milan, Mitchell de Quevedo, and D_K.

Gred Weasley: Thanks for telling me about the thans and thens. Beta reading for myself has the disadvantage of allowing me to miss the obvious…not to mention I seem to learn something new about grammar every day and by then it's too late. If you see anything else that I'm doing wrong feel free to point it out. I'm always open to improvement. 

Jam-jackson: How did your resolution go? Your teachers are welcome to blame me, since I have done my own impersonations of Uric at times…My teachers were particularly fearful of having me after lunch when someone might have fed me sugar…

Narcissa Malfoy: Thank you:) As for Louis being seen in public with his friends; Mena threatened to hound his every step and make sure the whole school knew they were friends if he didn't get off his arse and figure out a way to reveal his friendship with two Hufflepuffs without loosing face. It took a couple of years of manipulation (since he had to deal with both the Slytherins and his family), but by his sixth-year no one thought it was amiss when Louis hung out with Mena in the absence of Uric (since he was lost in time…). 

Gemin16: "His ever so Slytherin resolve" – What a delightful description of Louis. Thanks:)

The Badgers: …Thank you. I'll be sure to free any badgers that are within my possession. Were you demanding the freedom of the badger tie as well? Because Uric is feeding it well, and I don't really think it would be happy in the wild. Its size would make certain things (like survival and mating…) particularly hard…Oh, and yes you can have a badger for Christmas as soon as I get my own badger for Christmas…

D_K: Thank you for breaking your silence:) Rest assured, I have yet to find reading my reviews burdensome;)

Thanks for reading. Please review. What did you think of the chapter? 


	5. Headaches

Chapter 5: Headaches

            The barrier was down. That was the first thing Louis noticed when he woke up. The second thing he noticed was the headless red-robed body that had cushioned his fall. There was a silence in the chamber that bespoke the absence of the demon.

Louis stood up quickly, and nearly fell again as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He felt the back of his head and winced. Apparently the body hadn't cushioned his fall _that much. It was hard to tell if the blood on his hands was his, since everything in his vicinity was covered in the substance, but if it was, there was nothing he could do about it._

            He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog that seemed to permeate it. He was supposed to be checking something…Checking…Uric and Mena. That was it. 

Louis was sure his eyes passed over Uric more than once before they focused on him. Uric was standing in the centre of the bloody circle, staring at his hands. 

            "Uric?" he asked. His friend gave no indication that he had heard. 

Louis looked the room over again. There was no sign of the demon. Perhaps Uric had dealt with it, or perhaps it was above them rampaging through Paris. Either way, he couldn't work up the energy to care. 

"I'm going to check on Mena," he said.

            He stumbled over to Mena and stared down at her. She lay with her head pillowed on his cloak, looking untouched by the carnage that surrounded them. He swayed, trying to decide what to do. 

Magic. His wand. That was it. 

It took another trip back to where he had fallen to retrieve the wand. He was about to cast the spell to revive Mena when he was reminded of how his cousin had met her doom. A failed self-transfiguration by a drunken witch was not a pretty thing, and while he wasn't drunk, he certainly wasn't up to his full mental faculties. 

            With a sigh, he bent down and gathered her clumsily into his arms. It was nice to have her so close. Had she been awake, she would have told him to risk the spell, and she would probably do something violent once she found out he had carried her when there were other options. But the decision was his…and it was taking most of his concentration to keep them both upright. 

            He bent down and awkwardly flung his cloak over one of his shoulders, then made his way carefully over to where Uric was still standing and staring at his hands.

            "Uric? Uric! ...Uric!" It was only on his third cry that Uric finally looked up. Louis was shocked by his friend's appearance. Uric's hazel eyes were dull, and there was no animation to his face. He wasn't sure if Uric even recognized him. Somehow Uric's lack of expression scared him more than anything else he had seen this night. 

Before he could say anything, though, life flooded into Uric's face. His friend gave him a puzzled smile.

            "Are we playing a game?" he asked. 

            "What?" said Louis. His thoughts were too fuzzy to deal with Uric now that he was back to normal – or what passed for normal in Uric's case. 

Uric pointed to Mena in his arms.

            "Should I get a body to carry as well?" 

            "She's not dead!" Louis' voice echoed through the chamber, and he clamped his mouth shut with chagrin. Uric was just being Uric. He should stop overreacting and find a way to get them out of here. At least Mena wasn't awake to hear him make a fool of himself. 

His vision was still a bit fuzzy, but a careful examination of the chamber revealed a doorway to the left of where they had entered. He nodded his head in that direction.

            "Head for that doorway, Uric and find us the way out." It made sense that the only other passageway in the room would lead out of these catacombs, but he wasn't taking any chances, nor did he want to lose his friend. If Uric noticed a pretty rock, he was likely to decide he would rather stare at it than leave the catacombs. He was relieved when Uric followed his suggestion without protest. 

They entered a dry corridor much like the one they had used to enter the room, though it felt like ages since they had done so. Louis' arms were aching from carrying Mena already, but he was hesitant to test if Uric was more up to Enervating her than he was.

He eyed his friend uneasily. Uric was walking strangely. Every once in awhile he would stagger sideways, his feet doing a little dance as if they had a mind of their own, before returning to his normal pace. Louis was unsure if he should take this as another sign of Uric having a problem, or if it was more support of Uric's claim that his feet had a mind of their own. He grimaced, wishing he could lie down somewhere until his head cleared, but there was nothing he could do but keep walking.

*****

            It was a strange sensation. Her body was moving rhythmically up and down, and there was warmth spreading across her right side. She could hear a distant shuffle of steps, and even closer, a steady pounding that her mind tentatively identified as a heartbeat. That meant a person. 

Someone was carrying her. Had she been able to, she would have stiffened in surprise, but there was a strange limpness to her body that could probably be explained as the aftermath of her headlong rush at the barrier to save Uric. She concentrated on a single thing, and was rewarded as her eyelids fluttered open. 

Louis' face floated above her. He was staring ahead with weary determination. He didn't seem to have noticed the line of blood that had wound its way down his neck, or the fact that his hair had come undone. Had it been that horrible? What had happened with Uric and the demon? Were they prisoners, with Louis being forced to carry her? Was Louis hurt? She could tell from the ceiling that they were still in the crypts, but after several moments of attempting to work her mouth she was forced to stare silently up at Louis and try to ask her questions with her eyes. If only he would look down.

Keeping her eyes open proved impossible. She sank back into darkness.

*****

            She could feel Louis' chest rise and fall as he breathed, and she revelled in the comforting sensation for a moment. How long had it been since she had been held like this?

Her eyes opened without trouble this time. The night sky was visible past the overhang of a wooden building. Louis was sitting against the building's wall, holding her as he had before, her body cradled on his lap. There was no sign of the blood she had seen earlier. His head was tilted back, and he appeared to be asleep. She would have to fix that.

            "Louis!" He started awake, staring around in bewilderment before focusing on her. 

            "Mena. You're awake. Are you feeling all right?" he asked. 

Mena shifted irritably in his arms. Everything seemed to be responding, if a bit slower than she would have liked.

            "I'm fine. Why didn't you just Enervate me and let me walk, you berk?" she asked crossly. It was embarrassing, and Louis had to have had some trouble carrying her all the way out of the catacombs. 

            "I seem to have suffered a head injury," said Louis stiffly. "The headache's almost gone now, and I can see without my vision blurring, but next time I will be glad to try magic. I'm sure you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life as a mutated frog." 

            "And Uric?" she demanded, ignoring the guilt she was beginning to feel for bothering Louis when he was hurt.

            "As far as I can tell, Uric defeated the demon single-handed. I don't even want to theorize about how much power that took, so I wasn't about to trust him to do magic. While we're at it, why don't I ask you why you threw yourself against that ward? The aftershock could have been a lot worse, and I know you must have learnt something in Defence after all these years." The vehemence in his voice was startling. His usual calm had shattered in the wake of their adventure, and now Mena wasn't sure how to deal with him. 

            "Where _is_ Uric?" she asked, hoping that Louis would accept the change of subject. 

Louis inclined his head towards the opposite building. 

            "Over there," he said. "Doing a handstand." 

Mena turned to look. Uric was balanced casually on his hands, his feet and legs resting against the opposite wall. His robes ballooned out over his head, forming a black bell and revealing the latest in wizarding fashion for young men's pants. She sighed. It was a wonder they had made it out of the catacombs without her.

            She made an effort to get up, but was forced to slump back once she realized just how firmly Louis was holding onto her. A glance up at his face revealed that he was staring at Uric pensively. 

            "You can let me up now," she complained loudly. Louis gave her a startled look, then looked away in embarrassment. His grip loosened, and he sat stiffly as she pushed herself upright. 

            She was busy cleaning her robes off for the second time that day when a thought occurred to her.

            "What happened to the dark witch?" she asked. Louis gave her a blank look that made her think he was channelling Uric. 

            "The dark witch," Mena repeated. "She was bowing to that beast last time I saw her." She hoped that Louis wouldn't bring up the reason she hadn't seen more again. One reprimand was quite enough.

            "I don't know," answered Louis. "I didn't see what happened, and I was in no condition to check afterward." 

            "So how do we know the demon is gone, then?" she asked. 

Louis shrugged from his position against the wall.

            "We're alive, and the Parisians don't seem to have noticed anything, though judging by the assault we witnessed on our way to this sheltered alleyway, the Parisians don't notice a lot of things." His tone was faintly accusing, as if he were angry at the Parisians for not paying more attention. With a sigh, he leant his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. Mena thought he looked exhausted.

            "What do you want to do?" she asked softly. 

            "Sleep," answered Louis without opening his eyes. "But failing that, let's go home. The meeting's probably long over by now. What a waste." 

            "All right," said Mena. "Come on, Uric. We're going home." Uric collapsed from his handstand and stood up, brushing off non-existent particles of dirt with his hands.  

            "Okay," was all he said, but Mena was a bit shocked by how fast he had responded. He must really want to go home. 

            She offered Louis a hand up, and they headed out of the alleyway. 

*****

            Louis was beginning to regret giving the map to Mena. She had been determined to lead them, though, and he had been too tired to argue. The crude map he had sketched from a better one in Mr. Beaufolle's study did not do the city justice. For one thing, it didn't show the sheer number and variety of Muggles still haunting the city streets, in spite of the late hour. He had to grab Uric to prevent him from walking into a couple that was making its way across the street. Louis' eyes followed the woman of the pair, who was wearing a garish, revealing dress. He could guess her profession.

            The woman's companion was dressed in the lacy garb of a minor noble, and was walking a great deal less steadily than she was. As Louis watched, she pulled the man up against a building, kissing him soundly while deftly removing a valuable-looking bracelet from his wrist. Louis realized he was staring when the woman half turned from her kiss and sent a glare his way. 

            He hurried down the street, pushing Uric in front of him, and caught up with Mena. She hadn't even noticed their little detour, but was using the light from one of the buildings above to study the map once again. The other thing the map didn't show was the maze of extra streets – alleyways, really – that made this part of the city into a labyrinth. 

            He wished they could just use the carpet to leave, and the Muggles who saw them be damned. But the French Ministry of Magic was known for its strict laws on magical secrecy and its even stricter enforcement of said laws. Louis already had a note from the Ministry threatening them for their use of the carpet earlier in the day. It was either leave using the properly designated magic carpet and broom area, or face a few nights in the Minstry's cells. Not to mention that the Ministry would be sure to inform their parents of the incident. Uric and Mena's parents might not kill them, but _his_ father would be sure to make his life unpleasant, to say the least. 

            Mena chose another direction, heading off down an alleyway that ran to their left. Louis and Uric followed. Uric had been unnaturally quiet since they had left the catacombs. It was a good thing, since they didn't want to attract attention, but Uric doing something prudent without being told struck him as a bad sign. Just what had happened with that demon? 

            They passed through street after street, some brightly lit – and others that made Louis want to reach for his wand. Eventually, the houses on either side gave way to grander domiciles. Well-tended shrubberies guarded the entrances to palaces made of stone. Between the bushes, grand ladies and nobles flitted like butterflies, fenced in by the iron bars that kept their grounds out of reach of the rabble. 

It occurred to Louis that in one of these mansions, a meeting of great importance was probably winding to its close. He would have liked to give Mr. Beaufolle a bit of evidence for his cause, but it was too late now.

            "It's this one," said Mena, gesturing theatrically at one of the buildings. A large statue stood in the middle of a green lawn. At the end of the lawn was a white and grey building, its many glowing windows facing towards them. 

            "Which one?" asked Uric.

            "The Palais de Luxembourg, where Louis said the meeting was going to take place," she said impatiently. "You marked it with a big 'X' on your map," she said to Louis. 

            "Yes, I did. But that was before we all nearly got killed by a rampaging demon and that crazy witch." He glanced up at the night sky. "The meeting should have started ages ago. It's useless to go now." 

            "We might still learn something if we check," said Mena stubbornly. "What was the point of coming all this way if we don't have something to show for it?" 

It was strange how she had read his mind about wanting to bring something back for Uric's father, Louis thought. He stared hard at the palace. His headache had disappeared while walking, and he felt up to doing magic now. Could they afford to let an opportunity like this pass, especially knowing what he knew about the agenda of the meeting?

            "All right," he said finally. "We'll transfigure our clothing so we look like servants. We have to be very quiet, Uric. There should be a terrace round the other side of the palace. That's where we're heading." 

*****

            The few servants they saw ignored them, and were ignored in turn. Louis led them through the various rooms, always attempting to reach the other side of the palace. Finally they reached a darkened room. Long, elegant windows gave a perfect view of the terrace outside. Louis cast a tricky illusion spell – which he had practiced for just this situation – on all of them. They would blend into the scenery if anyone happened to glance their way. 

            On the terrace, a variety of men and women sat in high-backed, padded chairs that were arranged in a circle. Each wore a dark robe over his or her personal attire, but none had bothered to disguise their faces. Louis studied the faces intently, but was surprised to recognize none of them. 

At the side of many of the chairs, house-elves cowered, looking terrified despite the noble splendour of their surroundings. When he saw the creature sitting near them, Louis' eyes widened. 

            It was a goblin, sitting with a stiff formality that was completely at odds with the relaxed postures of the rest of the circle. Its skin was lighter than he remembered from the last time he saw a goblin, but what was surprising was its height. If he judged correctly, it was at least a head taller than any other goblin he had ever seen. 

            Beside him, Mena pulled out her wand and whispered a spell. It had a limited range, but now they could hear the voices of the meeting's attendees. And those voices were speaking in English.

            "I don't see why we're still here. We all know the plan and our parts. I have better ways to be spending my night," complained a blonde woman to their right. 

            An unassuming-looking man clapped his hands together from across the circle. "Bravo, Chloris." He uncrossed his legs and addressed the group. "The lady has requested we leave off the petty bickering and get to the point."

            "Time is running short," said a balding man. However, he sounded reluctant to let whatever they had been discussing drop. Louis' felt his hopes rise at the thought that they might still say something incriminating.

            "There will be other meetings," said a wrinkled old woman with a dignity that became her years. 

            "But none so important. This is where we cast our lot and claim what is ours!" It was another old woman who spoke. Her accent made the words sound even sharper than normal.

            "You're beginning to tire me, Flavio," complained the balding man. He was rubbing his temples. "You lot may not have lands up north, but I do."

            "We can't afford to exclude you," said the first man who had spoken. "It would look too suspicious. Just be content that you'll be compensated once this is over." 

            "Compensated by letting those filthy creatures overrun my lands!" The balding man's face and head were bright red. The goblin gripped the arms of his chair with his long fingers, and Louis fancied he could hear the arms crack under the strain. 

            "That's a little harsh, Egbert," said a man with long, red hair. He looked amused by the whole argument. "The Trow are our allies."

            "If they destroy the Keep…" Egbert warned. 

            "It will be a worthy sacrifice!" called out Flavio, even, as the red-haired man tried to reassure Egbert that his Keep would be safe. 

            "We've tarried long enough!" The man who had spoken first was checking an hourglass he held in his hand. "The night grows long. You'll be informed of the next meeting in the usual manner." There were nods and mutterings around the circle, but no one protested the abrupt termination of the meeting. A few of them even looked relieved. 

            There were no more words, though Egbert was glaring at anyone who would meet his eyes. One by one, they stood up, motioned for their house-elves to follow, and disappeared into the night. The red-haired man and the goblin were two of the last to go. As they Apparated away, Louis was surprised to see the man's brilliant red hair fade and turn the black of night. He stared at the space that they had just occupied.

            "Polyjuice," he whispered. 

            "What?" asked Mena. 

            "Polyjuice," said Louis excitedly. "They were all using Polyjuice. That's why they were worried about time, but weren't worried about who saw them here." He watched as the last man Apparated away after banishing the chairs. It wasn't as much information as he had hoped for, especially since they couldn't physically identify anyone, but at least they had a few names to give Mr. Beaufolle. Egbert and Flavio should be easy to identify at least, though it might not do any good. Some people were too strong to touch. 

            "What were they talking about?" asked Mena.

            "Goblins," said Uric. "They're raiding up north. Father and Mr. Holmstein were talking about it."

            "Exactly," said Louis. "How…coherent of you to notice, Uric." There was a long pause as he stared at his friend. 

Mena looked back and forth between them. 

            "Do you think chairs gather to have their own secret meetings? Is there a Head of the Chairs? Do they decide what the proper chair shape is for the year? Or perhaps they're planning to rise up and protest our sitting in them?" asked Uric finally. 

Louis could feel his headache coming back. Whatever was wrong could wait. 

"I've had enough of Paris," he said. "Let's go home."

*****

Author's and Historical Notes: The French Ministry's secretive policy is a result of the 1680 attack on witches and poisoners (which culminated in the burning of the sorceress, La Voisin), and the setting up of the 'burning court' for the prosecution of such cases. Louis' warning note was delivered right after he and Mena touched down. Thanks to my beta, Alchemine:)

Here, There and Back Again (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1216472) - It's Uric "the Oddball" Beaufolle's sixth-year, but instead of spending it at Hogwarts during the late 1600's, Uric has become lost in time. Special guest appearances by any character you can think of, and then some. Chapter 1 is now up!

Thanks to my reviewers and readers: Apocalyptic, Indigo Ziona, gjegje, Ozma, oO_Wth, Gred Weasley, Gemin16, Giesbrecht, Mitchell de Quevedo, googoo4you, Calandra Facete, shadowycat, and thistlemeg. 

Gjegje: You've got the right idea;)

oO_Wth: I have this insatiable urge to add an 'I' to your name every time…you're lucky you've only escaped with one alteration on my part.

Gred Weasley: Uric actually heard Luc's name while they were outside trying to get into the cathedral. I doubt he actually remembers hearing it, but that's where he got it from later. Luc's last name 'DeRue' is French for 'of the street/road' and is a rather logical last name (that Uric made up) for a street urchin. 

Gemin16: The flash of white light was just my way of showing that Louis was knocked out. 

Mitchell de Quevedo: Uric's in two of the footnotes for FB (specifically the ones on Fwoopers and Augureys) and he's also mentioned once in HP&PS/SS in chapter 8, at the end of paragraph eight (if you don't count the dialogue at the beginning of the chapter as paragraphs…it's the paragraph about History of Magic anyway…)

Googoo4you: I think Louis' explanation in Wild Hunt of Uric's oddness is the closest you will get to a proper explanation of Uric. As for Louis and the barrier – you'll see;)

Calandra Facete: Thanks for the tip. I ended up adding it into my research for this chapter:)

Thistlemeg: I did do some background research on the subject of the Parisian witches of the period, but other then my little mention of how secretive the French ministry is as a result, it really didn't impact the chapter. The book you read sounds interesting. 

Thanks for reading everyone. Reviews are appreciated:)


	6. Misplaced

Chapter 6: Misplaced

"I'm disappointed in the two of you."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Beaufolle, but I didn't have any other option. You said you knew what it was like…"

"Perhaps. But taking Uric with you – and if I'm not mistaken, Miss Smith too – was unacceptable."

"On the contrary, sir. Now we're two misbehaving children whom you can punish for running off for a fun weekend in Paris. Certainly not spies who brought you valuable information."

"I suspect there is much more you could tell me, Mr. Illiescu, but your point is well taken. Unfortunately for you both, I've left your punishment up to my wife. Good luck."

And the pudding said…

"Father?"

~

_Dear Mena,_

_How are things with you? I trust you had a better time of it than we did after our trip. Mr. Beaufolle turned us over to the tender mercies of Mrs. Beaufolle, who is a believer in the traditional punishments for unruly children. It was a refreshing change after my father's methods. _

_Our information was appreciated, but I'm afraid we have another problem. I can't mention it here. And please don't write me back demanding an explanation._

_Mrs. Beaufolle has graciously agreed to take Uric and me to Diagon Alley to gather the last of our school supplies on June 30. By "graciously agreed", I mean she refuses to let us out of her sight, but I have a plan to work around her. Which brings me to my next subject. If you could meet us there, we can discuss our other problem. Do me a favour, and don't leave this owl languishing for a week before replying, like the last one._

_                                                                        Louis_

~

"Were you reading over my shoulder, Uric?"

"Yes. What's our 'other problem'?"

"Spying on your friends is rude."

"I know."

"I – You kicked a house elf yesterday, Uric."

"It lost my book."

"I know, but – Never mind. Let's go down to dinner."

And the pudding nodded…

*****

            A sense of disquiet pervaded Diagon Alley. On the surface, it looked as it always did. Wizards bustled along on errands of business and pleasure. Children scampered around, stopping sometimes to stare in awe at the more ostentatious displays in the shop windows while their adult minders pretended their children were standing politely at their sides like well-behaved angels. But here and there, groups of wizards gathered, talking in hushed voices, while the witches gossiped in softer voices still. And at the centre of each group were the pages of the latest _Daily Prophet._

            Louis, who had his own subscription to the _Prophet_, had read through it earlier that day. He doubted the worry was over Mrs. E. B. Brunster winning the Most Handsome Wart competition three years running, so they were probably discussing the latest article on the goblin raids up north. The goblins had been a hot topic all summer. Sometimes it was obvious that Mr. Beaufolle had a hand in the news, and sometimes not. The press was already calling him a reactionary, but Louis doubted Mr. Beaufolle would care, as long as it got the Council moving.

            However, the Council was moving as slowly as it usually did. They could afford to ignore the situation so long as it only affected a few wizards and Muggles up north. It would take a much larger and harder-hitting raid to get the Council into action. Unfortunately for Mr. Beaufolle, the raids showed no sign of escalating, except for the tiny fact that the raids were spreading south. Louis wondered what would happen if the goblins raided Hogsmeade, or even Hogwarts itself. People didn't take well to having their children threatened.

            No, he thought, frowning in disgust. Whoever was behind the goblins' actions was too skilled to make that move now. It was better to have the Council complacent until the last moment. That was, after all, how the goblins had managed to get so far the last time. 

            "Uric, are you sure you're all right? You're so quiet." The worried voice of Uric's mother broke into Louis' thoughts. From the corner of his eyes, he watched Uric deliberately ignoring her. Mrs. Beaufolle repeated the question and Uric finally responded.

            "Do you think that when a person's hair falls out, it's actually an attempt by the hair to escape from its lifelong prison? Perhaps the hairs spend years at rallies, passing messages and building up strength before making their great escape. You have to wonder why they try to escape certain people more than others," he said. 

Mrs. Beaufolle had a fond smile on her face, her worries relieved by the oddness of Uric's answer, but to Louis' trained ears… He forced his hand to relax its grip around his wand. Uric was getting better at being Uric each day. He needed to talk to Mena.

            Despite that need, Mena didn't arrive to interrupt their shopping session until almost an hour later. Louis allowed Mrs. Beaufolle to guide them from shop to shop, buying things at her prompting, since there was little he actually needed. He usually did the majority of his school shopping by owl and only bought things now to allay his companion's suspicions. He doubted he would get any shopping done once Mena arrived.

            It was easy to see her coming. She was using her elbows and a well-placed heel to break up an alley-blocking crowd of worried wizards, who muttered a few words at her before dispersing. Louis grinned at the sight. Her hair was falling into disarray, though her pale green robes were surprisingly clean. She seemed to attract dirt. Louis had always thought it had something to do with growing up in a smithy, though that didn't explain how she managed to stain her robes so often at Hogwarts.

            She spotted them, and her determined scowl turned into a smile. Louis smiled back, then turned to Mrs. Beaufolle to put his plan into action. Mena would ruin it if he let her speak first. 

            "Mrs. Beaufolle," he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes focused on the ground. He wanted her to think he was nervous, which wasn't hard because he was, though not for the reason she would think. She looked at him while keeping one motherly eye on Uric, who was staring in fascination at a window display for cooking utensils. "I was wondering…"

            "Yes?" she asked. He had only a few more moments before Mena reached them.

            "Mena and I are seeing each other, and we were wondering if we could have some time alone." It came out a lot faster than he had intended, and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. Maybe he _was nervous for the reason she was thinking. "Please."_

            "Please, what?" asked Mena, coming up beside him. Mrs. Beaufolle's eyes swept over the both of them, and Louis began to sweat a little at the insight he saw there. He should have known better than to underestimate the wife of Alastair Beaufolle. Finally, she gave a small nod. 

            "Who am I to stand in the way of young love?" There was wistfulness in her tone. "If I had known this was the reason, I would have been a bit less harsh in my punishment."

            Mena looked confused and opened her mouth to speak. He grabbed her hand, knowing that the unexpected physical contact from him would shock her into silence. Louis had not been raised to display affection in public.

            "Thank you, Mrs. Beaufolle," he said as humbly as possible. 

            "Why don't you try Chou's Tea House? The tables outside are nice this time of year. I'll come get you once Uric and I are done." 

            Louis nodded and began to pull Mena through the crowd with him towards the tea house. 

            "Louis!" she yelled after a few paces, finally finding her tongue. He pulled her closer to him. 

            "Quiet. We need to talk alone. Without Uric," he whispered fiercely in her ear, all the while aware of Mrs. Beaufolle watching them with a knowing smile on her face. Mena was silent until they reached the tea house. 

Chou's Tea House had been set up by a Chinese wizard about five years ago. The Oriental trappings should have looked strange in a place like Diagon Alley, but they blended in as if they belonged there. Mr. Chou was said to specialize in fantastic Chinese herbal blends, and Louis was considering asking for something to soothe his nerves – and maybe Mena's as well. She was clasping his hand so hard that he was beginning to lose feeling in it. He let go to pull out a chair at one of the many tables for her. She didn't sit down.

            "Did she imply that we were seeing each other?" she asked in a scandalised tone. It had taken her _this_ long to realise that? He gave her a hard look.

            "Yes, she did. Is that a problem?"

            "Well, yes…" Mena trailed off, and Louis gave up holding the chair out for her and sat down in his own, disgusted. At least he knew her feelings on the matter now. There was an awkward silence.

"What's so important that we have to talk alone?" she asked. Apparently, she wanted to change the subject as much as he did. 

"It's Uric," he said shortly. His eyes were trained on the tabletop. He should have thought of a different plan to get them away. Her reaction was going to bother him for days, when it shouldn't have bothered him at all. He had already decided ages ago that a relationship with Mena would not be… practical.

Mena must have gotten fed up with the silence. "And?" she asked just as the waitress approached them. Louis let her order for both of them, using the time to recall the real reason they were here. 

"I noticed he was acting strangely after our demon encounter in Paris, but we were all out of sorts, so I let it be. He was quiet once we got back to the Beaufolle manor. I think his parents assumed it was due to our punishment, but have you ever seen Uric remain depressed or quiet for long?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "Any time I asked him what was wrong, he would respond with a useless question to put me off. The silence didn't last, though, and he returned to normal. I charitably ascribed that period to his recovering from our trip, but then I started actually listening to what he was saying, or rather how he was saying it. The odd ideas were his, but the phrasing and timing were off. I'm afraid that in a few weeks, no one will be able to tell the difference."

"Just get to the point, Louis!" said Mena. He ignored her outburst. It had been too much to hope for her to remain silent for the whole explanation.

"There have been other signs too. I watched him deliberately kick a house-elf, though he apologized to it afterwards, and a couple of nights ago, I saw him take a bite of pudding before he noticed me watching him.

Mena sat up straighter. "He ate pudding?" She looked as worried as he felt. "Then he can't be Uric."

"Who can't be Uric?" asked new voice.

Both of them froze and looked at the speaker. Louis was glad it wasn't Uric, but their visitor might cause another type of trouble.

It was obvious Varys Nachleen was a Ravenclaw. If the bulging satchel of books hadn't given it away, then the blue and silver kerchief wound proudly around the straps and coincidentally showing off the Head Boy's badge would have. The tall, dark-haired boy radiated curiosity. 

Varys had been their worst enemy for the first few years at Hogwarts. Louis thought he was jealous of Uric's effortless genius, and, more importantly, of the attention Uric received from his father. It was telling that Mr. Beaufolle had had to rescue both of them during the Abolition crisis. But Varys was intelligent – Louis had to give him that – and he had abandoned his old grudge sometime in their third year. Thereafter, he had ignored Uric completely and treated both Mena and Louis with indifference. His approaching them now was a highly suspicious change of pace.

"Hello, Varys," said Mena. 

Louis was shocked for the second time in the day. Had she sounded _nice? _

            "Hello, Mena." Varys smiled at her, then looked at him. "Louis." He pulled up a chair and sat down without being invited. "What seems to be the trouble with that oddball friend of yours?"

            "Why should we tell you?" asked Mena. She didn't sound half as angry with Varys as she should have been. This was a private conversation, after all. "And he's not an oddball."

            Varys looked sceptical. "I can still remember the second task of the Triwizard Tournament."

            "It wasn't his fault the giants wandered in that direction," protested Mena. 

            "Try telling the giants that," responded Varys, amused. The two of them stared at each other until Mena blushed and looked away. Beneath the table, Louis gripped the top of his thigh hard enough to numb it. 

            "You didn't explain why we should tell you anything," he said, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Varys had a reputation at school. With a father on the Wizarding Council and classical good looks that the girls had begun to notice years ago, he was considered one of the most eligible young men at Hogwarts. Varys seemed to enjoy the attention, but that didn't mean he could flirt with Mena right in front of Louis.

            "I'm Head Boy," said Varys. "All the students, including Uric, are my responsibility – and with the trouble he usually gets into, I have a right to be concerned. I know Uric wasn't simply ill last year."

            "It didn't stop you from taking advantage of it, though," pointed out Louis. 

            "He wouldn't have been named Head Boy anyway," said Varys grimly. Louis agreed, but he wasn't going to say so. 

Varys looked between the two of them, then turned to Mena, who was lost in thought. "I'm sorry." And that was it. He didn't say for what, though they all could think of plenty of incidents it applied to, nor did he explain why he was apologizing after all these years, but Louis suspected it had something to do with the way he was eyeing Mena. 

            He waited patiently for Mena's outburst. For her cry of denial. For her accusation that a simple apology was not enough. For her to point out that Varys still didn't like Uric – but it didn't come.  Her cheeks reddened prettily as she and Varys stared at each other.

            "You should be telling Uric this," she said finally, with little conviction in her tone. 

            "I will," Varys assured her confidently, giving her a smile. "But I can't do that if something is wrong with him." He turned to Louis now. "I can help you." 

            How convenient that it will impress Mena as well, thought Louis in disgust. He considered the offer reluctantly, though. Varys was the only one of them who might be able to find an answer. As a Muggleborn, Mena was poorly placed for the research this might require, and Louis could do nothing while he was staying with the Beaufolles. There was always the chance that Varys would tell on them – but considering what Louis thought had happened to Uric, who was going to believe him? 

Mena took the decision from him.

            "Uric is acting odd. Well, odd for him, at least," she said. "Louis was about to explain what he thinks is wrong with him when you walked up." She obviously expected him to continue the conversation, and after a moment, Louis did. If she wanted Varys to know, then let him.

            "I think he's possessed," he said flatly. 

            Varys looked startled. "By what?" he asked. There was no way Louis was going to explain the situation to him.

            "A demon, I think," said Mena. The years of her being shocked by anything that happened around Uric were long past. "We ran into one in Paris." 

            "In Paris? You do get around, don't you?" asked Varys jokingly. 

            "Mmm," responded Mena, deep in thought. After a moment, she looked up to meet Louis' eyes. "But what do we do about it?" 

            "We get it out, obviously. Muggles use exorcism, don't they?" He pronounced the unfamiliar word uncertainly. He probably had the most thorough grounding in the Dark Arts of any of them, but he had never focused on demonology – he knew better than to get involved in something so risky. 

            Mena nodded reluctantly. "They do, but that involves a priest. I don't think we'll find one that is willing."

            "Not to mention it's illegal to approach a Muggle with something like this," said Varys. He looked serious. "If I understand correctly though, it's the ritual that's important. We could probably exorcise him ourselves after I do a bit of research." He sounded confident. "You two are welcome to help me."

            Louis declined, unable to shake the feeling that Varys had known he would, and watched sourly as Mena accepted the offer. 

            "Is tomorrow good for you?" Varys asked. She nodded shyly. 

"All right. I'll see you here at noon. Hopefully, we'll find enough information to get the demon out before school starts. Can you imagine a demon at Hogwarts?" Varys shuddered, but he didn't sound too worried. "I had better be going. Good day, Mena. Louis." He hefted his bulging satchel and weaved his way out of the tiny group of tables and chairs. 

            After watching to make sure he was really gone, Louis turned to Mena. "It's going to be extremely dangerous to attempt this ourselves."

            Mena looked annoyed. "Do you have any other suggestions?"

            Louis shook his head no. 

            "Then I think his plan is good," she said. Louis had just opened his mouth argue more, when he saw Mrs. Beaufolle approach, looking worried. He fell silent, waiting for her to reach the table.

            "Have you two seen Uric?" she asked. Both of them shook their heads and Louis closed his eyes against the sense of dread that was building in his stomach. Their exorcism might work, or it might not. He couldn't afford to worry about Varys now. But what was the demon going to do with Uric's body in the meantime?

*****

            He was standing in a doorway of the area they called Knockturn Alley. He wasn't sure why the boy with the sharp green eyes had wanted to meet with the girl alone, but he had decided to take advantage of the situation. It had taken a bit of work to lose that tiresome woman, who for some reason had claim over him, but he had slipped away in the bustle of the robe shop, going where its memories told him she wouldn't follow.

            When he had first taken over this body, he had struggled with his host, attempting to gain the upper hand. This had been a mistake. It held a surprising amount of power for one so unassuming. However, its thoughts gave him another method of control. Distraction. It cost it power to keep it so diverted, but for the price of using this body… His hardest task had been learning to be it. Its actions were not like any of its kind he had encountered before, but that very fact worked in his favour. He had everyone fooled. Even this trip could be explained away with the excuse that he had seen a pumpkin with legs go walking by and _had_ to follow it. 

            He was startled to feel two hands gripping tightly at the back of its-his – robes. Turning around, he nearly knocked the creature over. He could feel the unexpected smile spreading across his borrowed face. Reaching down, he pulled the creature up, ignoring they way it clung to his chest, sobbing softly.

            "Master… Master."

*****

A/N: Thanks to my beta reader, Alchemine:) 

Thanks to all my reviewers: Persephone Kore, shadowycat, Em, Tidmag, Ozma, Giesbrecht, googoo4you, Sailor Book/Water Mistress, Morgan Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, thistlemeg, Calandra Facete, gemin16, oO_WTH, Mitchell de Quevedo, Aly, and Nights Mistress.

Persephone Kore: You're making sense. Too bad Uric isn't…;)

Shadowycat: It was a real goblin, just not what Louis was expecting.

Tidmag: They actually chose random strangers, though most of them went for people who were of a similar age/gender. A few of them went for the opposite extreme as well;) I can't tell you about the room, Uric's sworn me to secrecy;) Uric's time hoping has nothing to do with this story, nor will it effect him with the time turner in the future since Uric's Fantastic Adventures is an AU.

Ozma: It was more like Uric himself was trying to stage a mutiny. 

Indigo Ziona: He definitely has a thing for her, even if he doesn't like to admit it. Mena herself is a bit of the victim of the speaking before thinking syndrome, but we love her anyway:)

Mitchell de Quevedo: I have bad English days, despite it being my native language, so no worries:)

Aly: I'm pretty sure that Uric won't meet Voldemort in his sixth-year time travels. He might encounter Tom though…

Narcissa Malfoy: The politics in Slytherin are a bit complicated, but basically, Louis has, by this point, set himself up as independent of all the little groups in the house (like Alexis' circle…) so the opinions of the Slytherins count for little. Alexis has used it against Mena a few times though… As for the Hufflepuffs, Mena is friends with Uric, that makes being friends with a Slytherin like Louis pale in comparison. Uric's pants were red, and I think we'll leave the poor boy a bit of dignity;) Louis plans to identify them both by name and by context. You'll notice that no one used anyone's surname though…

Thanks for reading:) Please review.


	7. Be True

Chapter 7: Be True

            Louis took a bite of his toast, then made a grab for the bulging letter, fancy envelope, and _Daily Prophet _held in the talons of his owl, Melchior. She wouldn't go away until he fed her the rest of his toast. He did so with a hint of annoyance, but was more engrossed in reading the _Prophet and studiously ignoring the letter. _

There was nothing new in the news except for reports of upheaval in the Council system in Italy. The Councils were based on the old commune systems of the Renaissance and earlier times. They had a high turnover rate – practically every wizard of note in Italy had served a two-year term at some point in his life. Now the system was failing because of a wizard by the name of Flavius. It was something Louis would have to keep an eye on. 

            Turning a page, he propped the paper up in front of him to hide his actions from Uric, who was sitting on his left. He regarded the neat handwriting on the outside of the letter with a frown. Using his relatively clean sausage knife, he slit the seal on the outside and slid out a tightly folded sheath of parchment. 

_            Dear Louis,_

_            I hope this letter finds you well. Living with a demon must be hard. Has he eaten any more pudding? I don't know what Uric will do when he finds out. Should we tell him? You would have enjoyed the research._

There was a whole sentence scribbled out then.

_Varys__ and I have been working hard and I think we've finally found the answer (Never mind what I sent last week. That won't work.). We can't do it at Uric's house, so Varys has volunteered his home. He says no one will bother us and he's going to throw a huge party for all of the seventh years to give you and Uric an excuse to come and you're going to have to make sure Uric comes. Don't let Uric suspect anything._

_            I've copied out our notes from these past weeks so you'll know what we're doing, though Varys says he'll perform the main part of the spell. We'll work out a plan to get Uric in place once you get here._

            The rest of the letter was indeed a complicated description of possession and exorcism. Louis skimmed it quickly. He would read it again later – probably in the water closet, since Uric would be sure not to interrupt there. 

            He replaced the letter, pressing the seal down. It showed a rampant unicorn in gold with two short daggers in the background. Mena certainly didn't own a seal like that. She might have written the letter, but Varys had sealed it for her. Pushing it to one side, he opened the last envelope, which was made of a beautiful cream-coloured paper. He already had some suspicion of what was inside it.

_Louis Illiescu_

            _You are cordially invited to a f__ête at __eight o'clock__ on the thirty-first of August, to be held at the Nachleen Country Home, celebrating the start of Mr. Varys Nachleen's seventh year at Hogwarts. Dress robes required. All attendees are welcome to spend the night. Transportation to Hogwarts coaches will be provided. To notify us of your acceptance of the invitation, please indicate at the bottom of the scroll that you will be attending._

            Louis was impressed in spite of himself. Having the RSVP spell on the invitations must have added at least a Galleon to the price of each one. Varys certainly wasn't wasting time.

            Now all they had to do was exorcise the demon, make sure it didn't massacre or possess anyone else at the party and get Uric back to his normal state. 

            He lowered the corner of his paper to look at Uric, who was staring at his own invitation with a puzzled look. The demon even had Uric holding the invitation upside down. Chilled at how easily the demon was imitating his friend, Louis used the paper to shield himself again. 

            "This will be easy," thought Louis sarcastically, then put the paper down on top of his letters and went back to eating breakfast.

*****

            On August 31st, Mena left her house early to gather one of the key ingredients for their exorcism. She would have to hurry to obtain it and still be at Varys' house by one o'clock so that they could prepare. 

            Her destination, St. Clements, was one of the few churches in London that she had seen from the inside. Her father attended church irregularly, claiming to be too busy. He was properly reverent when dealing with the Church, but religion itself didn't matter much to him. Mena had been sent to Mass at Easter and Christmas while growing up, but her father had hardly hesitated at sending her to a school to learn to be a witch. Her mother and stepmother had had a different opinion on the matter, but her father's word was law. Mena had been increasingly thankful for that as she dealt with her stepmother's silent and not-so-silent recriminations throughout the summer. 

            Mena reached the steps of St. Clements and spent a moment staring at the ornate decorations around the door before walking quickly inside. Hurrying down a side aisle, she came to a large stone basin filled with water. Hopefully this was what Varys wanted. Any water in a church had to be holy, right? A quick survey of the area revealed that no one was watching. She pulled out an old flask, filled it with water, then hid it in the pocket of her dress. She was out of the church a few seconds later, running towards Diagon Alley, her ears tuned for cries of horror from the priests. But the cries never came, and she reached The Leaky Cauldron without incident. After entering, she hastily undid the spell that had transfigured her blue dress robes into a common dress, and straightened her hair as best as possible without a mirror. 

            The Leaky Cauldron was full of lunch-time patrons who had stopped in to have a mug of ale, some soup and bread before returning to their work in the alley or at the nearby Council chambers. Nobody gave her more than a passing glance as she made her way to the fireplace. She was a little nervous about going to Varys' house so early. Of course, it wasn't really the going she minded, since that was where they had been retiring to research demonic possessions. It was the leaving early that bothered her. Soon everyone would know she had been at Varys' house early. They might even think that Varys was courting her! 

            Mena flushed at the thought, her hand coming up to unconsciously pat her hair down once more. She wouldn't mind if they thought that at all. Mostly because, after a few weeks of working with him, she was sure that Varys was courting her after a fashion.

            He paid so much attention to her when they were together. Calling the house elves to bring them snacks almost before she knew she was hungry. Reading through the boring books while giving her more interesting ones – or at least the ones with pictures, gruesome as they were. He had even gone out of his way to introduce her to his father. Mena had always pretended not to be interested in such feminine things as the rules of courtship, but she knew the significance of that move. 

            And tonight, Varys was making his intentions public. He could have (and probably should have) asked Louis to help with the preparations for the exorcism, but he had asked her and only her.

            From her pocket, she pulled a small bag containing her precious supply of Floo Powder and took a pinch. Into the flames it went, turning them a brilliant blue. 

            "Nachleen Country Home," she said clearly, then stepped into the flames. This was the part of Floo travel she really enjoyed. A wind came from nowhere and ruffled the robes about her legs, and suddenly she was rushing through the ether, the flames of the other fires connected to the Floo network blurring on either side of her. Varys' house was deep in the network, which made the journey there a bit longer than your average Floo trip. Mena reveled in the few extra seconds before she tumbled unceremoniously out of the fire and into the marble entrance hall of the Nachleen Country Home. Immediately, a feather duster was thrust in her face, swishing away the ashes she hated and leaving her sputtering on an errant feather.

            "I don't think she had her mouth open while she was Flooing, Crepey, there's no need to dust inside it," said Varys. He had been leaning against the mantelpiece waiting for her. Completely missing the joke, Crepey bowed low to Varys and apologized. Then he returned to his cleaning with twice the speed, leaving Mena standing in a settling cloud of dust when he was finished.

            Mena coughed, and was about to complain, when Varys reached out to snag a feather from her hair and accidentally brushed a finger along the side of her cheek. She could feel her face turning red, except for the place where his finger had touched her – that place tingled and burned. The blood was pounding in her ears.

            Varys was smiling at her, and she expected him to say something, but he only reached out, took her hand, and led her from the room. 

*****

            If Mena had been expecting a romantic interlude, she would have been sorely disappointed. They really did spend the hours before the party preparing for the exorcism in a small room that was located deep within the house. The main spell itself was complex, but not terribly difficult for two seventh years – one of whom would have been the best in the school, if not for Uric. Mena had been happy when Varys had mentioned he didn't mind playing second fiddle to someone like Uric. She wasn't quite sure what he meant, but she knew he wasn't jealous anymore, and that made it so much easier to forgive him. Louis should have been proud of her, since he was always encouraging her to let go of things like petty revenge. But instead he was upset. His letters had turned so terse. Perhaps he was the one possessed...

            Mena seriously considered that thought for a moment before dismissing it as implausible and slightly frightening. She wouldn't know what to do if something like that happened to Louis.

            Varys placed a large candlestick on top of the rune for light that they had etched on the floor. The sound of the metal hitting the cold stone woke her from her thoughts. More than a hundred runes were embedded on the floor of the room, which was devoid of any furnishings. There had been a small chest, but they had removed it earlier. Some of the runes were Viking or Celtic. The rest were archaic Hebrew letters – they had found the most complete version of the exorcism spell in an account of Jewish spell casting. 

Only about twenty of the runes were for casting out the demon. The remainder of that job would be up to Uric. (Here, Mena frowned in dismay at the thought of relying on Uric for something like this.) Every other rune was for their protection while performing the exorcism. So was the semi-circular channel they had dug in the floor and filled with Mena's stolen holy water.

            Varys positioned another candlestick, then stood up to survey their work with a look of satisfaction on his face. "Now all that's left is to get Uric into the circle tonight. We'll have to disguise it."

            "Don't you want to close the circle?" Mena asked.

            "No. That would activate the barrier, and probably the exorcism spell as well. We have to wait until Uric is in it."

            Mena felt a chill. "Will Uric be able to get out?"

            "Yes, once the demon leaves him." He noticed the look on her face. "Don't worry, Mena. This will all go well."

            "It had better."

            Varys shrugged before surveying the room again. He pulled out his wand and performed a complicated illusion spell. Within seconds, the entire floor was smooth, unmarked stone again.

            "We'll just have to remember that the entrance to the circle is in the middle," said Varys. "I set the spell so it will disappear once someone steps in the centre." He turned to her. "Let's go upstairs and freshen up. The guests should be arriving soon." He hesitated for a moment. "Will you greet them with me?" There was an uncertainty about him, and it took her a moment to realize that he was afraid she would say no.

            "I will," she said, and didn't protest when he took her hand in his as they left the room.

*****

            Uric and Louis arrived at the Nachleen Country Home by Floo a few minutes before eight o'clock. They were attacked by a house-elf with a feather duster as soon as they stepped out of the flames. Uric laughed at the attack and danced about, trying to catch the feathers that were flying through the air. 

Louis, who usually would have waited for his friend, strode forward to join the queue of people waiting to enter the main part of the house. He impatiently brushed some lingering soot off of his black dress robes. The only decoration on them was his family crest embroidered in red on either side of the collar like drops of blood. He preferred these robes to the gaudy, silver, green and black confection that his mother had forced on him last year.

            "Louis?" a voice whispered in his ear from behind.

            Louis suppressed a shudder. "Yes, Uric?"

            "Are we queuing according to our opinions on hermeneutics? Because if so, you should go to the front," said Uric.

            Louis shook his head, half amused and half upset at what the demon was doing with his friend. He also had no idea what Uric was talking about, but that was normal. He craned his head to see around the queue.

            "We're waiting to greet our host and – " Louis felt something tighten inside him as he caught sight of Mena's profile and blonde hair behind Varys. "And our hostess," he finished quietly.

*****

            Mena was nervous, but the thrill of excitement and happiness that was running through her was enough to keep her calm and smiling as she stood beside Varys to greet his guests. Her smile grew more genuine as the queue progressed and she began to realize that the girls of Hogwarts were in a state she had never seen them in before: they were jealous of her. At school last year, she had been vaguely aware that the other girls were interested in Varys; that he was "good husband material". But it hadn't occurred to her that she ought to pursue Varys, or that the other girls were so serious in their own pursuit. 

            The number of covert glares she was receiving, even from girls who had come with their own escorts, was disturbing – but also strangely exhilarating. She, Mena, had the attentions of one the most sought-after boys in school. 

            "Ian, welcome to my home," Varys was saying to a dirty-blond boy whom Mena recognized as Ian Abascu, Varys' fellow Ravenclaw classmate and Beater for the Ravenclaw team. As a Chaser for the Hufflepuff team, Mena had once broken Ian's nose by using a Quaffle to hit a Bludger back at him during a game. Judging by his low, sweeping bow, he didn't seem to bear her any ill feelings, but his companion – a Gryffindor girl whose name Mena didn't remember – gave her a hard look and a discourteous nod before pulling Ian after her into the main room. 

            "Louis, my house is yours," she heard Varys say, and turned back to see him greeting Louis with a firm handshake. Louis gave Varys a sharp look, but then broke into a smile that Mena could tell was forced.

            "It's a pleasure to be here, Varys," said Louis. He looked grim in his pure black dress robes. "I've heard the Witch Donovan marked the main hearth of your home before she sacrificed herself. Perhaps you could show me later?"

            Varys nodded affably. "Of course, though I'm afraid it's not as impressive a mark as it sounds." He turned to greet Uric, who was wearing green dress robes with purple swirls around the sleeves and collar. 

            "Hello, Mena," said Louis quietly. 

            She tore her gaze away from Uric, who was hugging Varys, and looked up at Louis' face. "It's going to be all right," she said, though she didn't know which of them she was trying to reassure.

            Louis gave her a grim smile. "Of course it will be. Good evening." He passed into the other room. 

            Mena returned to her greeting duties, which included receiving a bear hug from Uric, but it was harder to remember to smile. Damn Louis for being so gloomy!

*****

            An hour later, when even the latest stragglers had arrived at the party, the entrance corridor was silent. The house-elves were occupied with other duties and the party was progressing nicely. Many couples were dancing to the music of a decent quartet of wizards and witches; the rest were enjoying the brambleberry wine and various finger foods. 

            This all mattered little to the tall, dark-haired woman who tumbled out of the fireplace. Her hair was matted and wild. A long, angry welt ran down her left arm where the sleeve of her once-fine robe was in tatters. She didn't seem to notice it, but instead strained forward as if searching the very air for a presence she would know anywhere. A moment more and she had it. 

            She wasn't supposed to follow the master. He would be angry when he saw her. Gloriously angry. But she couldn't stay away now that she had found him. She would wait out here in the empty places. Wait for him to leave and then follow him again. That was her purpose and her curse. With a strangled little cry, she vanished into the depths of the house.

*****

Historical Notes: After the Catholics, the Jews really do have the best policies and histories on exorcism. The amusing thing is that I'd already decided that before I did the research that confirmed it:) 

A/N: Thanks to my betas, Alchemine and Oktober Ghost. My apologies for the hermeneutics joke;) and even though it's not my fault for the time between chapters. Real life called.

Thanks to all my reviewers:  Sailor Book/Water Mistress, Ozma, Indigo Ziona, Nights Mistress, Shadowycat, Giesbrecht, googoo4you, gemin16, lady knight of kennan, Beaux folle, Calandra Facete, Anna, Tidmag and NM (Narcissa Malfoy).

Ozma: Mrs. Beaufolle didn't punish Uric by turning him into a pudding. The pudding narration was from Uric's pov as he watched the demon react. Mrs. Beaufolle's punishment for both of them basically involved lots of physical labour.

Nights Mistress: With luck, the Beaufolle's will never know of their son's possession;)

Shadowycat: The creature who called him master was definitely addressing the demon. As for the demon's plans… well, next chapter:)

Googoo4you: I'm determined to have Uric un-demonized by the end of the next chapter. *stares at wildly growing plot* I had plans to have them back at Hogwarts by the fifth chapter originally…

Anna: I apologize if the pairings are making you ill. I'd recommend some peptobismol for that…

Tidmag: I don't really have any intention of writing the Triwizard Tournament. I figure I'll leave it up to everyone's imaginations, though someone else is free to write it if they like:)

Thanks for reading everyone. Please review:)


	8. Thine Own Self

Chapter 8: Thine Own Self

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Liz. Happy birthday:)

            The meeting at the hearth went about as Louis expected it to. They discussed the details of the exorcism again: Varys would be saying the spells, with Mena and Louis as support, but it was up to Louis to lure Uric to the downstairs room. Varys and Mena would disappear a little after midnight, and Louis and Uric were to go and find them. 

Watching the two of them walk back to the main room, hand in hand, Louis knew that he would have ample, if irrational, reason to follow them when they disappeared. He only hoped that Uric could be convinced to go with him. The old Uric would have gone in a second, but anything they did could tip the demon off. Then their task would be impossible. 

            Until that time arrived, though, Louis was determined to do some socializing and renew his acquaintance with his allies and enemies from previous years at Hogwarts. Others, especially his fellow Slytherins, had the same idea. 

            He headed first to the other side of the room, where a small group of students of both genders were gathered. In their centre was silver-blonde Alexis Lupin. If pressed, Louis would have admitted that she was pretty enough – she was too tall, but had eye-catching curves and a well-proportioned face. Of course, if pressed, Louis would also have admitted that she was a manipulative bitch who would use anyone and anything to achieve her ends. It was no wonder that she was the unofficial head of the Slytherin students, and would soon be the Head Girl.

            Pushing his way past a tag-along sixth year, Vespian Malfoy, Louis only had to wait a few moments for Alexis to break off her conversation with Athar Starling.

            "Hello, Louis," she said, ignoring the fact that Athar had been talking. "Enjoying the party?"

            "It's absolutely _grand_," he said, overemphasizing the sarcasm for the benefit of his listeners. 

            Alexis laughed. "I haven't danced enough tonight, I think."

            "And I haven't had enough to drink," responded Louis smoothly. "But I would be honoured if I might have your next dance."

            She nodded and took his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her out on the dance floor. They settled into position, facing each other but not touching, and waited for the quartet to begin playing again. 

            "Young Malfoy looks jealous," said Louis.

            "He's lucky to even be here, and he'll be ruling Slytherin next year. I see little for him to complain about." Alexis sounded bored, but six years of being in her company had taught him a few things. One of them was that when Alexis sounded bored with a conversation it meant she had been practicing and planning it for a very long time. She must consider their talk very important. 

            The dance began, and both of them moved by rote through the first steps. Louis' mind raced as he tried to decide how to deal with this. Alexis was a good Slytherin, but she was only mildly clever, and not at all sharp when it came to most things. She obviously wanted something from him, and if he didn't head her off before she asked her favour, then he would most likely have to oblige or face the consequences. He didn't really fancy fending off Alexis' wrath this year. He might have an idea what she wanted, though.

            Their right hands came together as they stepped to the beat, circling around each other. Alexis' blue-grey eyes were focused on a point beyond his shoulder, as if she were revolving around a centre other than their two joined hands. It was the perfect time to speak, and the perfect time for him to play his hunch.

            "Our host and hostess seem to be getting along well," he said. 

            Their spinning revealed that she had been looking at Varys and Mena, who were also dancing. She transferred her gaze to him. "At the moment. She won't last out the year, or even a month if I have any say in the matter." She smiled. "And I do." 

            Louis resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Years of rivalry should have taught Alexis that goading Mena only made her more stubborn. 

The tempo of the music changed. Still holding her right hand, Louis slipped his other arm around her waist and guided them both forward to join the other couples. The dance led them in a slow circle, and Louis absently noted that they were behind Alexis' twin brother, Alexander, and his long-time sweetheart, Fiona MacLean. Alexis had not acknowledged Alexander as her brother since he had been sorted into Gryffindor, but Louis could engineer an 'accidental' collision with the couple if he needed to distract her.

            "You won't interfere, will you, Louis?" Alexis' voice broke into his thoughts, her voice suddenly sugar-sweet. She wanted him to keep his distance, no matter what she did to ruin Varys' and Mena's relationship.

            "And in return?" he asked. "I don't care about Varys, but Mena is my friend." He said the last with no little embarrassment, since friends were a weakness for someone in his position. But although this was his first time admitting it to Alexis, anyone with eyes could see he cared for Uric and Mena.

            "I know the little Mudblood is your friend!" snapped Alexis, her face flushed red with anger. "But Varys is mine. He's–" She stopped and composed herself.

He spun her around to face the other way as the dance changed direction.

"She won't be harmed – not permanently – and there are plenty of lesser sons for her to take up with if she's of the mind," she said in a low voice. 

Louis made his decision. "Very well. I won't help, but I won't hinder you either. I expect full Hogsmeade privileges this year, including some night passes. You'll cover for me as well when I need it."

She looked appalled at his suggestion. "I'm asking you not to interfere. If I wanted her food poisoned I'd ask someone else," she protested. His sudden glare made her wilt. "Not that I am poisoning her," she hastily added. 

"And if I encourage her?" he asked. The dance ended, and he bowed as she curtsied. 

She sent a glare of her own his way, but didn't have time for anything else. "You'll get your privileges and protection," she confirmed as he escorted her back to her crowd.

Louis gave her a mocking bow, then headed towards the nearest house-elf for a drink before returning to socialize. By Mena's definition, he had just betrayed her. By his, he had saved her from any of the nastier plans Alexis had in that manipulative head of hers. It was a stroke of luck that he had done so without letting Alexis know he would be pleased if Mena and Varys parted ways. He didn't think Varys was right for Mena, but Alexis would have thought Louis was sweet on Mena if she had noticed. 

He drained his wine glass, hardly tasting the wine, and scanned the room. He hadn't seen Uric for a while. It took a few moments, but he finally spotted Uric in the corner, building a castle out of discarded wine glasses. Varys and Mena were still dancing. It seemed unreal that in a little over an hour they'd be trying to exorcise a demon. 

He handed his empty glass to an attentive house-elf, and headed towards Uric, but detoured when he spotted a delicate, brown-haired girl standing by herself. 

"Would you like to dance, Justine?" he asked politely. She blushed and nodded shyly. 

Making small talk, he led her out on the dance floor for a slower dance than the previous one. Justine's soft answers – in slightly accented English – were charming, and he reminded himself that her family, the Harklenons, were great players in the wizarding politics of the Habsburg empire. A match with her would be pleasant, if boring – but his family would approve. 

He would be expected to marry soon after Hogwarts, and he had better start looking for suitable partners now if he didn't want to end up married to a hag, or someone even more disturbing whom his family deemed acceptable. A picture of Mena laughing happily appeared in his mind for a moment before he pushed it away. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Justine looked worried. 

Louis shook his head and gave her a genuine smile. "Not at all. I simply remembered that I promised the Beaufolles I would look after Uric tonight, and if I leave him too long he might burn down Varys' house."

She looked alarmed, but then she was in Hufflepuff and knew Uric's reputation firsthand. "You had better go find him then," she said. Breaking off their dance, Louis led her to the side.

"Thank you," he said and kissed her hand before disappearing into the crowd, not so much to find Uric as to find another drink. He was embarrassed that he had invented a pretext to get rid of her, especially since he had no reason to do so. He just wanted to be alone. 

"You might want this," said a voice.

Louis looked up in time to take a full wine glass from the hand of Seraph Cahzer. She was looking as radiant as usual, in dark red robes that accented the fiery red colour of her hair. In every way, she fulfilled her title as the best-looking girl in school. He took the wine, congratulated himself on not staring, and gave her a wry smile.

"Thank you. I'll assume it's not poisoned." He turned to survey the dance floor, making sure not to look at her as he spoke. Though they were both in Slytherin, the two of them tended to avoid each other's company. It wasn't that either one disliked the other. In fact, Louis thought that once she learned to tame that fiery tongue of hers, she would be a model Slytherin, and he was sure she held a similar opinion of him. The problem was that they were the only two Slytherins in their year who didn't bow to Alexis' every whim. Alexis left them alone as long as they were cautious, but if she thought they were joining forces against her… Well, saying that there would be a war in Slytherin would be putting it mildly.

"Varys has all the glasses charmed to repel poisons," said Seraph lightly, pretending to watch the dancers and sip her wine. 

"There go my plans for the evening." He could see her smile out of the corner of his eyes. 

"I'm going to need some help in Dark Arts this year, I'm afraid," she said, changing the subject but not her tone. "Would you be available to aid me, say the second week of term?"

"It's possible," he said. "I can't guarantee if the tutoring will help any."

"Father says I must try," she said, sounding put upon. "Thursday at six in the library, then?"

"That's fine," said Louis, his mind already racing as he tried to figure out why she would want a meeting, since tutoring was certainly not the real reason. No explanation presented itself, but he made a note of the date and time, and resolved to find out a bit more before then. 

"Good," said Seraph, finally turning towards him again. She looked him up and down. "Those robes look quite good on you, though the black is a bit dreary, don't you think?"

"At least I'm not wearing enemy colours," he pointed out, deliberately eyeing her dark red robes.

"What better way to lull them into a false sense of security?" she asked brightly, then tapped a finger against the end of his collar, where he knew one of his family crests was embroidered in red. He gave her a nod to say he had caught her unspoken point: he was wearing enemy colours as well. 

"I must get back to Icarus before he runs out of Quidditch anecdotes and realizes I'm not there. Have a good evening." She disappeared as quickly as she had come, pushing towards where Louis could see Icarus Jabber, the Ravenclaw Seeker, entertaining a large group with a wild story that involved lots of hand motions.

Louis held onto his wine and went to find Uric. It was still an hour until Varys and Mena were due to disappear, but somehow the idea of watching over a demon-possessed Uric seemed easy compared to fielding any more intrigue.

*****

            He was tiring of this party, and tiring of playing the fool. Leaning forward a little too far, he dropped the glass he was holding. The substantial wine-glass castle he had been building crashed to the ground with a loud crackling noise. The music stopped, and all the creatures in the room turned to stare at him. He grinned a grin that he had discovered came naturally to the face of his host body.

            "I hate it when the invisible newts do that," he said. All the creatures watching him blinked or looked confused, then turned away. It was amazing how well-conditioned his host had them. The music started again, as did the conversations. He turned to go play in the glass, but one of those miserable house-elf creatures was Vanishing the last of it away. 

            "If I give you this glass, Uric, will you promise not to build a castle with it?"

            He turned and found the green-eyed one who was always following him. It was offering him a glass of the strange drink that tasted like vinegar. 

            "Can I build a cottage instead?" he asked, and took the glass without waiting for the other boy's answer. 

            "Why bother?" asked Louis, taking a sip of his wine as he looked pensively at the dancers.

            Uric, or rather Uric's intruder, cocked his head to the side and stared at his companion. He liked to think he had come to understand a little about these strange creatures, especially the ones that were close to his host, but the green-eyed one seemed even more serious than usual. He searched his memory for the proper thing to say. "Did your last croslax get eaten? I always hate it when that happens."

            Louis shook his head, and the demon noticed that the boy's wine glass was trembling in his hand. "Considering I have no idea what a croslax is… No. It didn't get eaten." There was a pause. "But I do feel like _I'm_ slowly being eaten. Consumed bite by bite. Courting should be the least of my worries, and yet I can't stop..." He trailed off.

            The demon was confused by this, and let it show on his face. Louis saw the look and smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Never mind, Uric. Let's enjoy ourselves." He led the way off into the crowd, and after a moment, the demon followed.

*****

            Getting Uric to go with him was easier than Louis thought it would be. He simply mentioned that Varys and Mena had disappeared and he wanted to follow them. The demon, in true Uric fashion, made a game of it – making them hop on one foot for half the way, then insisting that Varys and Mena had been abducted by giant plum-eating bees. 

The usual doubts as to whether or not Louis was right about the demon surfaced. And then Uric mentioned that when they found the bees, they would eviscerate them and use their limbs as furniture. Louis hoped Varys and Mena were prepared.

*****

            Mena was pacing the tiny room, keeping to the edges so as not to disturb the invisible circle. When a hand fell on her shoulder, she turned, ready to fight.

            "Leave me alone!" she snapped. 

            "Stop pacing, then," said Varys. He sounded cross, but managed to look quite unconcerned for someone who was going to be performing a demon exorcism in a few minutes. She'd seen him look more worried in exams. 

            "You don't even care," she said, fidgeting with a loose strand of her hair.

            Varys sighed and gave her a nervous smile. "I care because you care."

            "You do? What about Hogwarts?"

            "Bugger Hogwarts," said Varys. Mena gaped at him for a moment, then laughed. She'd never expected to hear that from him. 

            He took a step closer so they were less then a few inches apart. His eyes were dark. "I hope you don't think me forward, Mena." And then he was leaning in. Mena stood frozen as his lips brushed hers, leaving what felt like a brand in their place. Her first real kiss. 

            Varys was staring at her expectantly, and she began to panic. She had always punched the boys who tried to kiss her before, but that didn't seem appropriate in this situation. "It was very forward of you," she managed finally, biting her tongue before she asked him to be forward again. 

            She was relieved when the door to the room swung open. They both turned to see Uric creep in, with Louis not far behind him. Uric was hunched over, sending furtive looks around the room, and for one horrible second Mena thought the demon had figured it out. But then Uric saw them. "I'm a spy," he announced, straightening up. "Beaufolle. Uric Beaufolle."

            "Yes, I think we all know who you are, Uric," said Louis from behind him. "Most spies try to keep their names secret, by the way." And then Louis pushed Uric forward, sending him sprawling into the centre of the now-visible circle. "Close it!" He slipped Uric's wand, which he had grabbed from Uric's pocket, into his own. 

            Varys was already moving. Before Uric had time to react, the holy-water barrier was complete, and Varys ordered them to light the candles. Their light spread to the runes on the floor, each glowing figure igniting its neighbour.

            In the circle, Uric sat up calmly. "Are we playing a game?" he asked, but his eyes were focused on the runes. 

            "No!" said Mena and Louis. They looked at each other, then back at the demon.

            "No more games," said Louis softly. 

            "We know you're a demon, and that you've got Uric somehow. But you're going to let him go!" Mena yelled.

            Uric cocked his head to one side. "This is an odd game."

            The runes were nearly all lit now, and Varys stood to one side, ready to chant the spell for the final part of the exorcism. 

            Mena growled at the demon's pretence, and would have yelled at it again if Louis had not spoken first.

            "We're not playing a game anymore, Uric, but perhaps we should. Here are the rules. Step outside the circle, and we'll forget this ever happened, or admit you're a demon and leave our friend alone!" Louis looked ready to step into the circle to do battle. 

            Slowly, the affable solicitude faded away from Uric's face, to be replaced with a twisted sneer – the first he had ever given. A chill settled over the room at the sight of it, but Mena heard Louis give a slight sigh of relief. He had been right. 

            The sneer still in place, the demon-possessed Uric stepped up to the barrier and reached out a cautious finger to test it. Mena panicked, thinking that perhaps she hadn't gotten holy water earlier, but then the air thickened around the finger. For a moment, there was a black talon superimposed on Uric's finger. Then the demon drew back, grimacing. 

            "This won't hold me for long," snarled the demon with Uric's voice. 

            "It will last long enough," said Louis. "The spell, if you please, Varys."

            Varys began, his intonation perfect. They waited. The demon looked more uncomfortable by the moment. It began pacing the circle. 

            "This is creepy," Mena muttered. It was difficult to watch a creature that looked like her friend acting so unnatural and – well – evil.

            "Did you expect an exorcism to be flowers and rainbows?" asked Louis. "Perhaps if we hope _really_ hard, Uric will be restored by the love of his friends."

            Mena wanted to kick him. So she did. 

"Uric is strong," she told him with a determination she didn't feel. "He can fight a stupid demon. We can't give up. Not yet."

Varys finished the chant, leaving an echoing silence in the room. Then there was a buzzing noise, and the runes glowed even brighter. A few began to flow toward the centre of the room, passing through the circle as if it wasn't there. One touched Uric's body, and he let out a scream that turned into a roar. Mena cried out to see the pain on Uric's face. 

The second rune touched, and this time the roar sounded strange, like words in the wrong dialect, or in a language she used to know. Beside her, Louis' eyes widened. His own wand was pointed towards the barrier.

"_Silencio_ _contego_!" 

All sound cut off, except for their breathing. 

"What?" asked Mena.

"A curse," said Louis grimly. "One that would have hit us across the barrier and burnt us inside out." He let out a shaky breath. "He would have been disembodied as well, but I'm sure he saw it as a small price to pay. Now he can only curse Uric, and we must hope he doesn't find that preferable." 

"The demon can still hear us, yes?" asked Varys. Now that the demon was quiet, he had reverted to treating this as a particularly challenging Artithmancy problem. 

Louis nodded. "Just in case you have to reinforce the spell." If that happened, the runes inside the circle would need to hear Varys' voice. 

"You should encourage Uric, then," said Varys. "The victim can be drawn back by the voices of those he is close to, according to one of my sources."

Mena shot a triumphant look at Louis who rolled his eyes, but nevertheless turned his attention to the circle again. Uric's body was spread-eagled on the floor, his robes in disarray, his mouth open in a silent scream. He writhed every time an errant rune touched him. 

Mena and Louis began to chant. "Uric! Fight him, Uric! Uric!"

*****

            The badgers were performing their sacred dance for the eighteenth time since Uric had arrived. They all stood in a circle facing outward– all the badgers walked upright in this place – then twirled about to the left until they were facing inwards. The badgers and Uric bowed, and shouted the badger salute: "No! Not the ankles!" Then they lapsed into a complicated dance called the Mock-a-rina. Uric had found it hard to learn the moves, but he enjoyed chanting the words in the secret badger tongue, and the feast afterwards was always fun. 

            It was around the hundredth repetition of the song that Uric began to wonder if something was wrong. Forty Mock-a-rinas later, he decided to wander around the circle. He stopped in front of their frantically dancing chief, Badger Julio, and waved his hand in front of the badger's eyes the way his friends did to him sometimes. He had to pull his hand back quickly so as not to get his hand ripped open by Julio's sharp claws. Uric frowned. 

            "Mr. Julio?" Uric waited. "Mr. Julio?" The badger kept on dancing, its black eyes focused on a spot somewhere behind Uric's head. Uric turned to look and saw only the other badgers dancing. 

"Do you need me anymore, Mr. Julio?" he asked politely. That was why he had stayed all this time. First the badgers had needed him to help name the trees. Then they had to paint them, and collect their leaves. Then they had wanted to build sand castles – only there was no sand, so they built dirt castles. There had been more requests as well. Uric was always happy to help, but occasionally he wondered what had happened to his friends or his family or Hogwarts and began making preparations to leave. The badgers would do their sacred dance and feast in honour of his departure and then… he would help them make forts out of sticks.

            "Thank you for your hospitality," he said, and bowed to the dancing badger, narrowly avoiding being head-butted. Julio gave no sign of hearing or seeing him. Uric shrugged and walked off into the badgers' forest.

            He had been warned that the Pudding patrolled the edge of the forest, preying on the hungry and unwary. Sometimes when he closed his eyes he saw it – a dark shape with fire and eyes and blood – and became upset. The badgers always distracted him when that happened, but this time no badger appeared. He walked onward, steeling himself to face the Pudding at the edge of the forest – only it wasn't there.

            Beyond the forest was a desert. The sand was made of hot gold, but Uric took his wand and made himself a pair of cheese-shaped slippers which fried pleasantly as he walked on. 

            "Uric!"

            He looked around. The voice had come from the bright blue sky, but squinting upward revealed nothing. He shrugged and continued walking. 

            "Uric! You idiot! Fight him!" 

            "Who?" asked Uric. The landscape changed around him, the gold melting away in molten rivers. He put a strong cooling charm on his feet and continued, leaving footprints in the metal that lasted a moment before melting away again. 

            A mountain appeared in the distance, and Uric headed towards it. The voice called his name a few more times, but the sky never answered back when he spoke to it. 

The golden desert began to cool and form into strange shapes. There was a face, screaming in agony with its golden tongue. A giant foot as tall as a house, and an arm the same size, lay nearby. A smaller hand with twelve fingers tried to grab him, but he jumped out of the way. There were golden animals – birds, cats, grindylows, pigs, even a badger. A golden dog paced him for a long time, but then fell away when he asked it what it ate. 

The forms grew more numerous as he got closer to the mountain, and other objects began to appear. Uric watched in bemusement as a clock melted at his feet and began to slide away. 

"Uric! You need to fight! You know how!"

Did he? The question occupied him until he found himself at the foot of the mountain. Only it wasn't a mountain of stone, or even of gold. Multiplied a thousand times were decaying copies of his own head, their faces fixed in grimaces, forming a pile that reached to the sky. 

A queasy feeling ran through Uric, along with a stab of pain. Then he felt normal again. Solemnly, he reached out to touch the hair of the closest head.

"I'm sorry, Uric," he said, and began to climb. 

*****

"He's not listening. Make him listen, Louis!"

Had Louis been alone, he would have already given up. But he knew Mena wouldn't give up until Uric was free or dead, so he turned to Varys and ordered him to chant the exorcism spell again. Turning back, he watched Mena shout for a moment, the desperation and determination evident. Uric was always surprising them. He could still do it.

"Come on, Uric," he yelled. "Don't let the pudding win!"

*****

            Uric was very close to the top when the Pudding appeared. It descended from the sky, and landed with a crunch on the nearest heads. A wave of fear swept through Uric, followed by more stabbing pains. He clung to the nearest head's hair, feeling reassured by the familiar braid in his hands.

            "Return to the badgers," the Pudding ordered. 

            "Uric! Fight him!"

            "They're busy," said Uric. "And they don't really need me," he added sadly. 

            "Return, or I will force you to."

            "No. Not again." Uric wondered where the "again" had come from. Obviously his mind knew of a first time, even if he didn't. 

            "You've already fallen," said the Pudding scornfully.

            Uric shook his head. "I was weak. My apologies."

            "You've always been weak. The only reason I didn't destroy you before was that it was easier not to."

            "Uric!"

            Uric looked up towards the top of the mountain. He was scared of the pudding, but his friends wanted him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pudding, but I must be going." He started climbing. 

            "No!" shouted the Pudding. It grabbed his arm. 

            Uric turned slowly to look at it, and the Pudding found itself staring into deep golden eyes, the same colour as the desert below. The Pudding recoiled from that gaze, knowing that the thing it had feared the most had happened. His host's mind had finally given it his full attention.

            "I think you should leave now," said Uric, and the Pudding fell.

            "URIC!"

            Uric climbed the last few feet on heads that were slowly turning to gold. He paused for a moment, then reached out to touch the sky.

*****

            They all stared anxiously at the circle, but saw nothing except a dense miasma. There had been no sign of Uric since the darkness had started pouring out of his body. 

Then a hand appeared, pushing outside the circle. Mena leapt forward and grabbed it, pulling Uric through the circle so hard that he landed on top of her. Louis helped them both up, grinning, then glanced in alarm at the circle before hurrying out of the room. 

*****

            Mena eventually released the bemused Uric from a breath-stealing hug. She glanced over at Varys and saw that he was scanning the runes on the floor, his lips moving as if he were speaking inaudibly. She regarded the rest of the room.

            "Varys?" she asked, wondering why her voice was so high.

            "Yes?" He sounded strained.

            "Isn't the demon supposed to be gone now?"

            "Yes!" There was panic in Varys' voice.

            The circle that contained the demon was beginning to look woefully inadequate. The black gloom that had streamed out of Uric had coalesced into the slavering monster she remembered from their time in Paris. Its black skin rippled as it used its bulging muscles to strain against the barrier. There were already deep gouges in the floor from its claws. It bellowed something at them, but the barrier blocked the sound. Sensing this, the demon settled for glaring at them with eyes of flame.

            "What do we do?" asked Mena. 

            "Something simple," said Louis from behind her. 

            She turned to see him in the doorway, holding a bucket of water as far away from himself as possible. She wondered when he had left to get it. 

            "You're going to throw water on it?" asked Varys a bit scornfully. 

            Louis glared at the other boy. "Yes. I took the last of your holy water and mixed it with regular water. It's diluted, but still potent. The demon's only option will be to leave or die. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get on with this before it breaks out of the barrier?" He gestured for everyone to get out of the way.

            They moved, with Mena dragging Uric, who was mumbling something about them getting wet, behind her. 

            Louis had just swung the bucket back and was ready to throw when someone crashed into him from behind. The water went wild – some of it splattering his arm, the rest going off to the side, where it drenched Uric and Mena. He hit the floor with a thud. 

            "Master!" a voice screamed. Louis looked up to see a once-beautiful and highly familiar woman running full-tilt toward the demon.

            "_Stupefy_!" Varys yelled, but it was too late. The spell passed just behind the woman, who launched herself through the barrier, breaking it. She struck the demon inside, and at her touch, it dissolved into a dense cloud of smoke that obscured their view. The dark cloud expanded, reaching towards the ceiling and the door, then contracted in on itself with a great rushing noise. Louis thought he heard a faint cry of "master," but he couldn't be sure. The cloud grew smaller, then disappeared, leaving the room empty of both demon and woman. 

            "What the hell was that?" asked Mena irritably. She was wringing out the edge of her dress. 

            Louis rubbed at the place on his arm where the water had hit him, reluctant to speak of what he thought had happened. Uric had no such reticence. 

            "The Pudding left, and he took his friend with him," said Uric, sounding serious for once. 

            "His 'friend' being a certain dark witch you will recall encountering under Paris," said Louis grimly. "It seems to have…" He paused to search for the proper word. "Broken her."

            Mena groaned. "Just great." 

            "Are you all right, Mena?" asked Varys. 

            Louis rolled his eyes at the question. Of course she was all right. Holy water wouldn't hurt _her_.

            Mena smiled at Varys. "I'm fine. You almost hit her with your spell."

            Varys looked embarrassed, but pleased at her compliment. "I was still too late."

            "I think we all were," said Mena regretfully. Still, she was impressed by Varys' actions, and his wonderful spell casting during the exorcism. If only she knew what to do about the kiss.

            Varys nodded in agreement, then turned to Uric, who was wringing out his robes. He held out his hand. "It's good to see you back, Uric."

            Uric regarded the hand curiously for a moment, then reached out and shook it with the slow deliberation of someone who had never done such a strange thing before. "Did you know," asked Uric as he inspected the floor, "that if you rotate all the outer runes a half-turn to the left, you can spell out the first chapter of our Potions textbook?"

            Taken aback, Varys looked around the room. "Why would you want to?" he finally asked. 

            Mena giggled. "He has a point, Uric." 

            "Watch out for the pudding!" called Louis suddenly. Uric jumped and began to look around wildly. Water sprayed from his brown hair, splattering the wall. Louis gave a satisfied nod and handed Uric's wand back to him. 

Mena glared at Louis. "You didn't have to do that."

            Louis gave her a tight smile. "I had to be sure."

            "Suspicious bastard," she accused, but her voice had taken on a teasing tone.

            This time the smile Louis gave her was genuine. "Yes."

*****

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Alchemine:) I don't expect to be writing a long chapter like this every time, but I thought I'd better finish off this part of the story and get them back to Hogwarts in the next chapter.

Thanks to all my readers: Ozma, Giesbrecht, thistlemeg, Nemo returning, Sailor Book/Water Mistress, shadowycat, and futago.

Giesbrecht: Basically Uric is implying that he views Louis as being at one end of the hermeunetics extreme, though someone in the future had to have explained the concept to him. 

Nemo Returning: A reward for the 100th reviewer? Hmmm. I shall send the badgers to bless your house and dance the Mock-a-rina to sanctify it. That work?;)

Futago: Yes, I'm updating this. Goblin Uprising and Gentlemen of Fortune are basically my two fics that gets updated regularly (ie, I alternate between writing chapters for each of them.)

Reviews welcome:)


	9. This Time Around

Chapter 9 – This Time Around

It was a weary group of sixth and seventh years that made their way into the coaches that would take them to the Hogwarts' Coach House in London. Nearly half the party had collapsed (or been placed by conscientious house elves) into the small, well-furnished rooms that had been magically arranged not far from the main ballroom. Hangover cures made the rounds at breakfast, and if the absence of the host and a few guests was noted it was only to speculate on whom had left with whom. By the end of the day, most of them would be bragging about having been at Varys' party, but most were too tired to work up much enthusiasm before dinner.

Varys, Louis, Mena, and Uric were in the last coach to leave the Nachleen Country home. They had breakfasted in a separate room with Varys' father, who had been taken aback by Uric Beaufolle. Uric had blithely informed him that he was always called, "that Gryffindor busybody" amongst other things at the Beaufolle home. The other three talked little – the night's adventures had exhausted them – though Mena couldn't stop grinning at every nonsensical thing Uric said. It was good to have their friend back.

Arriving at the Hogwarts' Coach House, they hurried up to the non-descript Muggle looking building, and leant casually against the boarded up brick entranceway. Inside, there was the usual bustle as students sorted out where they should wait for their particular year's coach. This was thrown into more confusion by the worried parents who were dragging their first-years from one platform to another, looking confused.

Since their luggage had already been delivered earlier, the four of them had little to do while they waited. Uric wandered off in search of the luggage in order to rescue Simon from his cage, leaving Louis, Mena and Varys standing alone. It was an awkward silence that stretched onward as Louis studiously avoided striking up any sort of conversation and pretended the overhead architecture was fascinating. It was Varys who finally broke.

"Will you sit with me on the coach?" he asked Mena hopefully. "I mean all of you, even Uric," he added upon sensing Louis' annoyance.

Mena hesitated. She wanted to spend time with her friends, but Varys was also important. She had never sat with anyone but Uric and Louis on the coaches before.

"You sit with the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, don't you?" asked Louis suddenly. Mena blanched. She could talk for hours about Quidditch, but the Ravenclaws had a tendency to take it to an extreme, especially their Seeker, Icarus Jabber. What did she care about the game first being played at Queerditch March? Or what Quintius Whatshisname said in _The Noble Sport of Warlocks_? She was more interested in actually playing and discussing the latest games, though that would be embarrassing since she would have to remind them of their latest ignominious defeat by Hufflepuff.

Fortunately, Varys seemed to sense this. "I'm sorry. I know you'll want to catch up with your own friends. Come join me when you can?"

Mena found herself nodding agreement, and Varys smiled. "Perfect. I shall see you later." He swept up her hand, and pressed it to his lips before walking quickly away. Mena glanced at Louis to see his reaction to the display of affection, but his face was a polite mask.

"I don't see why he bothers to include Uric and I in these invitations. It's obvious they're meant for you," said Louis.

"Maybe it's because he's a nice person now, unlike certain people I know."

Louis' dark green eyes stared straight into her own. "I am a very nice person in my own way, Mena."

"No, you're not," denied Mena playfully. "But we like you anyway. Isn't that so, Uric?"

Uric was back with his bird lizard, Simon, perched on his shoulder. "Yes, but I don't think indigent thalossacracies have anything to do with the argument."

"Nor do I," said Louis with mock gravity, and Mena burst into laughter. She was busy smoothing down the soft blue feathers on Simon's head to his chirping appreciation when the Hogwarts coaches arrived with a squeal from the hogs that drew them.

One of the first-years yelped, drawing a few appreciative snickers from the surrounding older students. The giant, bristled hogs dripping with sweat were impressive, but had ceased to either bother or entertain the older students years ago. The purple coaches with their Hogwarts' crests on a field of lighter purple drew more attention as everyone jostled to be first through their doors. The platforms were high enough to allow them easy access. The coaches looked small, but they were charmed to be much larger on the inside. Each coach had a teacher assigned, and it was Professor Thacher who pushed open the door to the seventh-year coach. Thacher was the Charms professor and Head of Slytherin, though his smiling face and propensity for bad puns always made people forget his background. "Did someone call for some coaching?" he asked the crowd of seventh-years, who gave his pun their usual groan of appreciation. "Try not to run over anyone this year," said Thacher cheerfully, before he stepped out of the way.

Inside the coach was much larger than the outside with rows of seats that could be magically arranged in more private groupings if the students wanted to. The décor ran to an eye watering amount of bright, red velvet on everything from the curtains to the seats with gilding on any surface that was left untouched by fabric. Those not blinded by the furnishings quickly made their way to a seat, Uric, Louis and Mena taking their usual spot off to the side.

The journey seemed to go faster every year. The three of them talked for awhile, mostly about what their summer had been like before the trip to Paris, and eventually Mena did join Varys and his group. Uric watched her go, and looked to Louis for an explanation, but Louis was studiously ignoring her abandonment.

"Do you know where the demon went after it left you, Uric?" Louis asked idly, hoping to get a better answer than he had last night.

"The demon?" Uric cocked his head to the side. "The Pudding, you mean? Gog left."

"Gog?"

"Its name is Gogorath, but you can call it Gog."

Louis considered this piece of absurd information for a moment. "It might be best if you don't mention the demon to anyone but Mena and I. Yes?"

"All right," agreed Uric.

The coaches dropped them off in front of the main doors. Louis quickly split off from Mena and Uric once they reached the Great Hall and found his usual seat with the others from his year at the Slytherin table. No one talked to him at first, so Louis took the opportunity to study the High Table.

He didn't expect to see anyone new, and was therefore surprised by the tall, red-haired man sitting in Professor Mentis' place. Had Mentis retired from Ancient Magics and Runes to write that manuscript she was always talking about?

Louis studied the new professor. Even from this distance, he could tell that the man didn't want to be here. Professor Baker, their Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was sitting next to him and trying periodically to engage him in conversation, but was being continually rebuffed. Eventually, she gave up and turned to talk to Professor Wright, who was as happy to talk to her as he was to any other woman. Louis idly wondered if Wright would get up the courage to ask the beautiful professor to marry him this year. It was rumoured he had meant to the year before, but Baker had been deeply involved with an Egyptian wizard at that point. Now that she was free, Wright might try his luck. Louis would have to move quickly if he was going to get good odds in the Slytherin betting pool.

Alexis coughing on his right caught his attention. She tossed her head in his direction, and Adrianne Beryl leant across the table towards him. "So, Louis," she said, flicking a lock of her brown hair out of her face. "You and your friends were gone for a long time last night, and this morning."

"And Varys too," said Alexis casually, giving him a pointed look. Louis had to resist the urge to tell her that their orgy had run over time.

He shrugged. "It was Uric's idea to go wandering. I was charged with looking after him."

"Did you run into Varys and Mena?" asked Adrianne.

"Yes, we did." Louis didn't want Alexis thinking that Varys and Mena had been alone in the house for long. "He gave us a tour of his home, and Uric insisted on seeing everything, including the broom closets. We even saw the house elves' quarters," he said disdainfully.

Adrianne nodded, but it was when Alexis turned to talk to Athar sitting next to her that Louis relaxed and went back to examining the professors.

There was an odd air about the High Table that Louis couldn't place. Headmistress Kurze looked more stony than usual, but that might be because the first years were taking a long time to cross the lake. That didn't explain how distracted and upset Professor Bear, who taught History of Magic, looked. The large man kept staring down at a scroll he had, then glancing over at the red-haired man, before looking down again. The rest of the table weren't so obvious, but they were all upset or worried about something.

He didn't have long to consider the matter, since the first-years finally straggled into the hall, led by an enraged looking Professor Stewart. Stewart was the Deputy Headmaster and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He had a hatred of disobedience, tardiness, and jokes, and Louis had no difficulty imagining any of a number of things the first-years might have done to get him angry. Luckily, it looked as though he had calmed down by the time he fetched the Sorting Hat.

Watching the Sorting wasn't an appealing idea, so Louis pulled out the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet. He had been saving it to read during the Headmistress' invariably long and dull welcoming speech, but there was no problem with getting an early start. When the hat began to sing, he wasn't listening.

* * *

Mena was setting up an invisible chess set. If played the proper way, you would only be able to see a faint outline of the board on the table, with the pieces being directed by verbal commands; but since Mena and her opponent Neil McGowan weren't good enough to visualize the entire chess set in their heads they had the pieces set to slightly transparent. The set was translucent so as not to draw unwanted attention to it during the Headmistress' welcoming speech, but they really shouldn't have bothered. As soon as Mrs. Kurze stood up and placed her black hat on her short, red hair, the entire hall quietly yet efficiently produced methods of staving off boredom. Many students pulled out books or the Daily Prophet to read. Others resorted to games or crafts, though anything that made too much noise wasn't considered a good idea. No one was sure if Mrs. Kurze was aware of how her speeches were being ignored, but she had stopped the speech once in their fourth year to verbally destroy a sixth-year who had been quietly practicing his violin. No one wanted to be her next victim, so silence was emphasized and books with camouflage covers were quite popular.

Mena glanced at the new, first-year Hufflepuffs and grinned at the fact that they'd have to listen to Kurze's speech, though the smart ones would take a nap. Next year they would know to bring something to occupy themselves.

Mena and Neil started the chess game. Ten minutes in, even the professors had given up the pretence of listening and were resorting to their own methods of curing boredom. Baker was happily reading a pamphlet with an illustration of a chimera on the front. Professor Darshan, the Potions professor and one of Mena's favourite teachers, had transfigured a statue of an Indian goddess with many arms and was teaching it to juggle. Everyone else was either reading or sleeping, with the exception of Professor Bear who was snoring loudly, and, Mena suspected, deliberately.

No. Not everyone. The handsome new professor with the long red hair was staring fixedly at the ceiling with a stony look that said he was listening reluctantly to every word the Headmistress uttered. The other Hufflepuff girls had been watching him since they sat down, and Mena had to admit that she had stolen her fair share of glances. His brooding only made him more attractive. She thought it was vaguely indecent to be looking at a teacher that way though and quickly turned her attention back to the game.

"_The badger twas Hufflepuff's choice,_

_That shirked not at labour and toil._

_A creature of blessing and healing,_

_That to its family was loyal_."

"Uric! Will you stop singing that!" snapped Mena. He had started out humming the Hufflepuff verse from the Sorting Hat's song, but now he had graduated to full out singing with Simon crooning harmony. She was having trouble concentrating on her game, and it was a wonder Mrs. Kurze hadn't noticed the noise.

"The Hat mentioned badgers," said Uric happily. Simon was still crooning the song. "Why don't more articles of clothing mention badgers? Do you think I could get my trousers to sing about badgers?"

"I know a rude song about badgers. I–" chimed in Neil helpfully from across the table.

"No!" said Mena quickly. She knew it too, and had resolved that Uric would never ever hear it, if only to save herself from the embarrassment of admitting that she knew him when he did go around singing it.

"You can charm trousers to sing, but why would you want to?" said Alpolonius Nester in a disgusted tone. He had been sitting next to Neil, apparently engrossed in a book, but as usual when it came to Uric he had been listening enough to get in an insult.

"Trousers are fun," said Uric, oblivious to Al's tone.

"And you could make them sing as a joke, or part of a show or something," said Mena, giving Al an exasperated look. Most of the Hufflepuffs ignored or were distantly friendly with Uric. She wasn't sure when Alpolonius Nester had taken a dislike to Uric, but he never missed an opportunity to put down one of Uric's ideas or discredit him. If Al had shown any signs of following up his dislike with pranks or some other form of action, she would have worried, but since he seemed to be content with verbally attacking Uric, she left him alone, or defended Uric when she was around. While occasionally, Uric reacted to something people told him, in general words didn't seem to mean much to him, so she wasn't too upset. Al always backed down when she threatened to punch him for what he said anyway.

"Are you going to move?" asked Neil. Mena started. Al had returned his attention to his book, while Uric was now concentrating on balancing his wand, point down, on his index finger. Even Simon had stopped chirping.

"Yes. Sorry." She moved her knight, then winced when Neil took her last rook with his own knight.

They were actually on their second game when Headmistress Kurze finally started to wind down her speech. It was always time to start putting their procrastination aids away when she began to thank the school governors.

"Hogwarts has been a bastion of education and learning for countless generations. I expect every student to fulfil their role in its future," said Mrs. Kurze proudly.

She fell silent, and there was a long pause as everyone wondered if she was actually finished. Professor Darshan started clapping, and everyone followed suit. Mrs. Kurze didn't even smile. "Yes. Thank you," she said sourly. "Now, before your meal, I have some announcements to make." There was a low groan from the students.

"Quiet! Less than a week ago, Professor Mentis disappeared while she was out on one of her ridiculous research trips to the Highlands. Once her absence was noticed, a group of wizards went out to find her. Yesterday, I was told that her body was found, torn apart by goblins. It is thought that she wandered into one of the goblin's forbidden areas."

The hall was utterly silent. Mrs. Kurze's voice had been strong. She would have considered it a weakness to show something like grief, but it showed well enough on the other faces around her. Some of the teachers obviously hadn't known, and sat in stunned silence, while others bowed their heads in grief. Professor Bear had his hands folded as though he were praying.

Mena looked around at the other students and wondered if her face had the same mixture of sadness and fear. Hogwarts was in Scotland after all. The Highlands weren't that far away, and Professor Mentis was well liked by the students who took her Ancient Magics and Runes class.

"I was required to find a replacement professor on short notice," continued the Headmistress, her lips pressed into a thin, grim line. "Fortunately, I was able to appoint a professor who comes on the highest recommendation. It was his wards that closed the portal at Stonehenge permanently. His writings on ancient magic were already being used by Professor Mentis has supplementary material for her class, and he achieved not one, but two BATS in the subject when he was at Hogwarts." Every eye in the room was on the red-haired professor, and it was quite easy to see him turning red with embarrassment at the Headmistress' words. His fist, Mena noticed was clenched tightly and turning white as he fought not to interrupt the litany of praise.

"May I present, Professor Aedan Kurze. My son." There was a proud smile on Mrs. Kurze's face. The hall was silent, though some of the teachers were sending disgusted looks at both the Headmistress and her son.

"Nepotism," coughed someone at the Slytherin table. Mena looked over quickly to see if she could see who had coughed, but everyone at the table was doing their best to look intensely innocent. She wondered what "nepotism" meant.

"Who said that?" demanded Mrs. Kurze angrily.

It was Louis who stood up to respond. "One of the first-years had a coughing fit, Headmistress." He gestured at a tiny, red haired boy who obviously couldn't have made the deep guttural cough they had all heard. "Sorry to interrupt."

The Headmistress stared suspiciously at Louis. Her grey eyes seemed to bore into him, even from so far away, and Mena held her breath. There was nothing but common decency stopping Headmistress Kurze from punishing Louis for the comment. It was Professor Kurze who saved him.

He stood up, and cleared his throat, sending a quick glare in his mother's direction that rivalled hers in intensity. "Thank you for the welcome, Headmistress. I'm sorry to have to come to you in such circumstances. Xu Mentis was an excellent witch whose presence and contributions to her field will be sorely missed. I cannot fill her place, but I will do my best to live up to her expectations." The clapping started spontaneously, and Professor Kurze sat down, his grave demeanour only slightly ruined by the triumphant look he gave his mother at his speech besting hers. It had been a pretty speech, Mena had to admit, and she clapped with the rest, even though she hadn't known Professor Mentis well at all. Shouldn't they have a moment of silence for her as well?

Mrs. Kurze's face was back in its usual stern glare. "Thank you, Professor Kurze," she said after the applause had subsided. "As some of you may know, we also accept a new professor every year to fill the Dark Arts post." Dark Arts was only taught to seventh years and was therefore considered a part time post. "This year's professor will be Josianne Dacourt, who hails from France. She will be arriving in a few days and I'm sure you all will make her feel welcome. Now, we must sing the school song."

The song itself wasn't bad, but the tune the Headmistress always chose to sing was dismal. Mena much preferred the happier sounding version Uric always sung, so much so that she didn't even elbow him to be quiet when his voice began to drown out everyone else's and drew Mrs. Kurze's glare. When the song was over, the Headmistress stared pointedly at Uric as if debating his punishment, but decided against it, and instead let the feast begin.

It was the usual good food, and Mena found herself cheering up considerably from the awful news about Professor Mentis. She even helped Uric build a bridge out of leeks so his peas could escape the evil turkey monster. Dessert was over too quickly and she was yawning when they were all dismissed to their respective common rooms. She didn't notice Louis' approach until he appeared at her side.

"You'll notice she didn't say anything about keeping us safe from the goblins," he said, then thrust the Daily Prophet into her hands before joining the crowd of Slytherins heading towards the dungeons. Mena let the others brush past her, as she scanned the front page of the paper. The main story was on wizarding politics in Italy and Eastern Europe. Puzzled, she flipped to the second page, and the third. Finally, she reached the editorials and there in bold, underlined by Louis' quill, it said, "Are our children at risk? Hogwarts in the Path of Destruction!"

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A/N: Thanks to my reviewers – Bobcat Moran, Ozma, Giesbrecht, Nights Mistress, futago, Shadowycat, Nemo Returning, Kaelli Karali, cin-min, Tidmag, Truth, Eleyna Aurelin, telly1, Mystic Catface, thistlemeg, Elven Flame, and Sweetest Thang.

Giesbrecht: Yes, he learnt about them then. He picks up some really random things.

Shadowycat: The demon will be back… eventually;)

Tidmag: It depends on how much another species relies on magic. The house elves certainly have an idea that he's a special, if rather exasperating human.


	10. Old and New

A/N: Er, yeah. It's only been a year and a half, right? I apologize, though I can't actually promise updates since I'm working on my own original fiction now. Still, I want to assure you all (all five of you, most likely) that Uric is the only fic I write that will never be fully abandoned. I always enjoy writing Uric and can't imagine not doing so, even if there's long gaps in between chapters.

Thanks to my beta, Ashfae. And thank you all reviewers:) I'll be using the review response feature from now on, so if your questions aren't going to be answered within the story then you can expect a reply. Cheers!

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Chapter 10 – Old and New

"Now, if you add porcupine quills, ground into a fine powder with a proper quartz pestle, the Plaid potion turns into a lovely blue, yellow, and grey mixture. Hmm… Duck!"

By the time Professor Darshan had finished shouting the entire Advanced Potions class had ducked behind their desks and homemade shields or simply cast shielding charms. Unfortunately, they were useless against the plaid fog that billowed from Darshan's cauldron coating the floor and everything below knee level in a blue, yellow and grey pattern.

"And that is what happens when you get some powdered bicorn horn mixed in with your porcupine quills," said Professor Darshan, giving them a big grin. It looked quite strange on a face that was half plaid. "And since I haven't been near any bicorn horn today, I'm assuming one of you sabotaged it." He was still smiling.

"It was me, sir," said Hector Sansom one of two Gryffindors in the class, and one of Hogwarts many pranksters. "I was actually trying to make a cloud of bubbles."

Darshan nodded. "Ah, yes. That would have happened if I had made the more common variant of the Plaid potion. Bicorn horn and troll toe nails make excellent bubbles, though the smell is a bit off putting. Write out what you were trying to do and what you think happened this time and we can try to figure out which ingredients will create bubbles while combined with bicorn horn." He was beaming at Hector as if the boy had discovered a new type of Truth potion. Mena was left trying to figure out if Professor Darshan meant the assignment as a punishment or a reward.

"Since I don't have time to brew a new potion, that'll be all for the day. Please bottle your own potions and give them to Mena. Mena, there's a crate over in the corner you can place them in. Homework is the usual scroll on today's potion, and I'd be interested in your thoughts on Mr. Sansom's little experiment. Please read up on Eternal Illumination potions for next class. Dismissed."

Mena collected the potions as she had been told, all the while trying to remember how long it would take for the Plaid potion to wear off. Her stockings looked awful in blue, yellow and grey.

"All right there, Mena?" asked Professor Darshan. He was a handsome man, his body still lean from the years spent as a professional Chaser on the Raging Tigers in his home country of India. Mena couldn't imagine giving up that job to teach Potions at Hogwarts, but that was exactly what the man had done. Even weirder, he seemed to be insanely happy here.

"So silent?" he said, and she realized she had never answered him. "They must be keeping you busy."

"Yes, sir," she said, shouldering the crate of potions. Darshan often called on her to assist him after class and she knew the procedure by heart. She followed him out of the room and towards his private lab where he would chat with her for awhile about his favourite and perhaps only subject – potions.

Sometimes, she felt exhausted by the sheer enthusiasm he held for the subject, but she was also pleased that he trusted her to share his interest. Professor Darshan had even had her help him on some private projects that she knew no other students had been privy too. It was refreshing to be back at Hogwarts where people trusted her. Her stepmother's suspicions and outright hatred had been harder to bear than she thought they would be.

Her stepmother was pretty, she would give her that, but everyone in the family knew her father had married out of duty. He needed an heir. Mena couldn't inherit her father's smithy business, and she was training to be a witch as well. She frowned to herself as she wondered for the thousandth time if her father would have allowed her to go to Hogwarts if she was a boy. The thought sent a sharp jolt of anger through her. It made her want to punch something.

Still, her father hadn't needed to choose a woman who had such an obvious hatred for the unexplainable and for the abnormal. From their very first meeting, her stepmother had acted like she had the plague…

"I wonder if Mr. Sansom knows that adding bicorn to trolls toe nails would have made the effects of the potion near permanent?" mused Darshan, breaking into her thoughts. She stared at him in horror, but he didn't seem to notice. "What's this?" he said.

Mena broke her stare to see a woman walking down the corridor towards them. Her black robes were dyed with colourful green swirls around the edges and they seemed to hug her body. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair and a perfectly proportioned face. Mena blinked in shock. The woman looked different, but there was no doubt it was the same dark witch the three of them had tangled with under Paris, and later, in Varys' house. There wasn't even a flicker of recognition in her eyes when she saw Mena, yet Mena couldn't help shuddering when the woman smiled at them both. She took a step back while Professor Darshan took a step forward.

"Ah, what can I do for you Miss?"

The witch's smile grew wider and she looked him in the eye. "Josiane Dacourt. I am ze new Dark Arts professouer." She put on an affected French accent to prove the point.

"It's wonderful to meet you!"

Mena had never seen Professor Darshan so excited over something that wasn't Potions.

"What can I do for you, Miss Dacourt?" asked Darshan, motioning with his free hand that they should enter his lab. Mena followed.

"Josiane is fine, Monsieur Darshan."

"I am Bhanu then, Josiane, but not in front of the students." He winked at the witch, completely forgetting that Mena was even there. "What can I do for you?"

"Lots of things, I imagine," said Dacourt. Her face looked entirely innocent of the double meaning of her words. "But today, I am in need of a strong Burn Salve. Madame Reinhart told me you kept the stronger ones in your own lab." She held out her right hand which she had been hiding in the pocket of her robe. Both Mena and Darshan flinched at the sight. Her hand was a red and black mess that extended well past her wrist. There was a faint smell like burnt charcoal and hair that made Mena take a step back and hurriedly look for some clear table space so she could put down her burden and leave.

"What happened?" asked Darshan, reaching out to touch her hand, then pulling back before he could make contact.

"A cursed amulet. I have many enemies. That's why I am so late to arrive," she said sadly.

Mena wasn't sure what to think. Dacourt seemed sincere, but the image of the crazed woman leaping through their circle a few days ago and into the embrace of her "master" kept popping into her head. And what had happened to the demon anyway? Louis had said he never got a straight answer out of Uric – if Uric even knew. Mena hoped he did, and that it had nothing to do with the dark witch in front of her. Things were bad enough with the goblins threatening Scotland and Hogwarts.

"That's horrible!" said Darshan. He turned around to look for the salve and spotted Mena. "Ah, Mena. You can put those on the table over there. Five points to Hufflepuff."

"Yes, professor," said Mena, reluctant to draw attention to herself. She quickly put down the crate, sparing a moment to regret loosing her usual chatting time with her favourite professor. She turned back to face the professors and found them both watching her.

For one moment, Mena though she saw Dacourt's eyes burn with some emotion, but then the woman smiled at her. "Are all students this helpful?" she asked playfully. "I can give her another five points, yes?"

"Of course," said Professor Darshan, beaming.

"Good. Five points to Hufflepuff. I shall see you in class."

Mena didn't bother correcting the woman, and instead fled the room as fast as possible. She didn't take Dark Arts, but Louis certainly did, and Uric was likely to drop in on the class. They would both have to be warned.

Uric loved visiting the house elves. They always listened to him, and were very kind. Louis said it was because they were creatures of un-ending patience, but Uric thought it was because they shared a love of exploring Hogwarts. He had spent his entire second year convinced that he and the house elves were playing an undeclared game of hide-and-seek around the castle as they went about their duties. It had stopped when his father and Mr. Kurze had told him to leave the poor things alone, and could he please stop telling them how good they looked in rouge?

Despite that, he still visited in the kitchens sometimes, especially when Simon wanted a midnight snack, or in this case, when Louis and Mena wanted snacks for their midweek meeting.

"Thank you, Luffy," said Uric, bowing to the grinning house elf that handed him a fully-packed basket of "study food". Leaving the kitchens at a dead run. He stopped to have an animated conversation with a tapestry of Cynogene the Cryptic, but left after she complained that he made no sense. He wandered his usual meandering path back to their study room – a small room about half way between the Hufflepuff and Slytherin common rooms that was decorated entirely in pillows and cushions of all sizes.

Inside, Louis was lounging on his favourite pillow. It was filled with some sort of stuffing that made it mould to his body. Mena, by contrast, was doing her best to pace back and forth without slipping on the countless pillows strewn across the floor. She must have been really hungry.

"Uric! Why do you always take so damn long?" she demanded.

"Sorry?"

She waved her hands in front of his face. "What's the point in you apologizing if you don't know what you've done wrong? I've told you before to come right back here from the kitchens."

"Yes, mother," said Louis. "Why are you complaining if you already knew he was going to do it? That's why we send him out a half hour before we get here."

Mena turned to glare at him. "I'm complaining because we have something important to talk about."

Louis immediately sobered, and motioned for her to speak. Uric wandered over to sit on one end of the form fitting pillow, wiggling around so he had his own seat. He began to set out the food for them on a low table nearby, and thus missed his friend's conversation while he considered whether marmalade or blackcurrant jam was stickier, and which would make the better glue.

"Uric!"

He smiled at Mena. "Yes? I have all types of jam."

"How nice for you," said Mena in a cold tone. "Did you hear me say our new professor is a dark witch, the same dark witch that tried to kill us this summer and summoned that horrid demon?"

Well, he had now, but there was never really a right answer when Mena was annoyed. "Maybe?"

She rolled her eyes. "Good enough!"

"You need to be careful if you join us in Dark Arts, Uric," said Louis.

Uric nodded, unsure of what he should be careful _of_, but he was willing to let it go. Technically, he was only enrolled in Alchemy, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Magics and Runes, and Advanced Transfiguration, but his father, in what he called "a brilliant scheme" had set it up with the teachers that Uric would attend every class that was offered to the seventh years. The teachers had agreed that so long as Uric attended a few classes and was able to pass any tests they set for him, he would be allowed to take the BATS in their respective subjects. His father had even gotten Headmistress Kurze to agree, which in Uric's eyes made his father the greatest politician and former Slytherin in existence. When he had told his father that earlier in the summer, Father had laughed and said, "Let's just say I helped her with some family trouble and leave it at that."

"Why are we taught Dark Arts anyway?" asked Mena, breaking Uric out of his unconscious staring contest with his teacup. "Isn't it evil?"

"Maybe," said Louis in that slow tone that meant he was thinking really hard before he gave his full answer. "Technically, the name "Dark Arts" was assigned by wizards and witches who were disgusted by the darker side of their own magic. Dragon blood, for instance, is classified as a dark ingredient because if you want it at full potency, it has to be taken from a dragon that died defending its young. So mothers are often killed while nesting, and those who like dragons – nasty, brutal creatures that they are – consider it a dark practice. It's true that many of the practices used by true dark wizards – unicorn blood, human and animal sacrifice, demons, etcetera – are completely evil, but a lot of the dark arts are just curses people consider too nasty to use in polite company. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if it's removed from our curriculum completely sometime in the future. It used to be a full time course back in our father's days, but now it's almost redundant since we tend to learn all the dark curses in Defence anyway."

"I'll bet you already know everything Dacourt will teach," said Mena. She sounded strangely proud.

Louis gave her a slight bow. "Maybe," he said with a small smile. Uric wondered if Mena knew that Louis only smiled like that when he was talking to them. He watched as Louis' face went calm and his eyes hardened. It was Louis' Slytherin look, as Uric had taken to calling it.

"Will you be joining the Duelling Society, Mena? Uric?" Louis asked. It had been announced at dinner, along with the arrival of their new Dark Arts professor, that all societies from last year would be starting again at the end of the week. The Chess Society and Portraiture Society were being particularly voracious this year. Uric had thought it was quite ingenious how the Portraiture Society painted that portrait of the Headmistress that was always smiling and cheerful whenever the Headmistress wasn't looking at it. The Hogwarts Chorus would restart with a new leader since their last one had been a seventh year. It was the same for the Duelling Society. As a result, the new leader of the Duelling Society was the Head Boy, Varys Nachleen. This had made Mena very happy for some reason Uric couldn't comprehend.

Mena was smiling. "I think it'd be a good idea for us. You should join too. Look at all the trouble we get into together!"

"Funny," said Louis. "Your argument last year for us _not_ joining was that with all the trouble we get into we'd have an unfair advantage."

"Well, maybe you still have an unfair advantage," she said. Her smile had vanished. "But I'm going to join and see what I can learn. I didn't like being helpless this summer."

Louis shook his head. "You weren't helpless. You just acted before thinking – like you usually do."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Goat!" Uric said, wanting to join in on the fun. The other two stared at him, making Uric check self-consciously if his braid had come undone. Both Mena and Louis began to laugh, their argument forgotten.

"You will make an excellent politician someday, Uric. I mean it," said Louis once he had stopped chuckling. He reached for a scone, deliberately ignoring the dancing badger, drawn in blackcurrant jam that was gracing the top of it. Uric only hoped the badger was happy with its sacrifice to Louis' hunger.

"What are you doing for your Charms project?" asked Louis, and their conversation turned to study and theories while Uric very quietly encouraged a line of ants to climb the blackcurrant mountain he had built for them.

The first meeting of the Hogwarts Duelling Society in the year of 1686 began on a dismal note. It was stormy outside, so the main hall had a gloomy cast that wasn't helped by the early hour. Varys Nachleen and their new supervisor Professor Kurze had decided the early meetings would help weed out the less dedicated members of the club.

Uric stared at the main hall from a hole in the Hufflepuff crest and wondered why so many girls had joined the Duelling Society this year.

"You're either paranoid or extremely prudent," said a voice from behind him.

"Actually, that's you," said Uric absentmindedly. Any other person would have known from the deep silence behind him that it was the wrong thing to say. Uric didn't even remember saying it. He was more concerned with calculating the exact number of dust particles that was occupying the Great Hall.

"Uric the Oddball?" said the voice after a long moment.

"Not yet," said Uric.

"What?"

"That's not my name yet," said Uric, finally turning away from his view to look at the voice. He had been assuming there was no body attached to it, and was disappointed to find it was simply Professor Kurze. The professor was wearing a crisp black robe, and not a single lock of his dark red hair escaped from the tight braid it was woven into.

"Oh, I can see how you drive Mother insane."

"I can't drive," said Uric. Father and Mother had both been very insistent about that, even if the chances of him ending up in Muggle London driving a wagon filled with fertilizer again were extremely low.

Professor Kurze's grey eyes were focused and hard. "Do you deliberately misunderstand everything that is said to you?"

"Hmm?"

"Either you're insane, or you're not."

"I'm not," said Uric with a smile, and he had a piece of paper from a doctor to prove it. "Do you always have fire in your eyes?"

Professor Kurze flinched. "Still doesn't explain why my father likes you," he muttered. He straightened out his robes, then abruptly jerked back his left sleeve and thrust his arm out under Uric's nose. There was a tattoo just above the inside of his wrist. It was a mass of twisting lines like two snakes tying themselves in a knot.

"Do you know what this rune means?" asked the professor.

"Purity."

"It's very important to me – and to the Wizarding World." The fire was growing in his eyes again.

"Yes, Sir," said Uric politely. "Did you know it looks a lot like a butterfly doing a traditional Russian dance?"

There was a moment where Professor Kurze simply stared at him. Then it was broken by a soft chuckle. The Hogwarts Caretaker, Olman Kurze, stepped into the room. "He's good at that. I've seen him take the wind right out of your mother's sails more times than I can count." Mr. Kurze's grey hair was cut short and he wore old brown robes that held a fresh stain of cleaning potion.

"And yours too, I hope," said Professor Kurze. He was glaring at the older man.

Mr. Kurze kept smiling, but there was something sad in the air around him. "Of course. Uric doesn't discriminate in his targets. I've never been able to decide if it's the universe's way of playing a joke on us – or him."

"How philosophical of you," spat out Professor Kurze.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Uric thought Mr. Kurze wanted to speak, but he decided against it and shifted his gaze to Uric. "What part of the padlocked, seamless door did you not understand, Uric?" he asked.

"There's a door?" That explained why the ceiling had been so reluctant to open.

"Yes, and it's charmed only to let teachers in."

"Oh. Why?" asked Uric.

"Because of the thirty-seven ways there are to spy on the Great Hall, this is the one that belongs to the teachers," explained Mr. Kurze patiently. He turned to his son. "Don't you have a Duelling Society to attend to?"

"Yes, Father." He stalked out of the room.

"I'm sorry," said Uric. He could tell Mr. Kurze was upset, even if nothing showed on his face.

"Aedan will always blame us for Bran – his brother's – death. And maybe he's right to…" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. Just get out of here Uric and don't come back to this room. I'm adding it to our list of forbidden places, all right?"

Uric nodded, hoping he would remember. He liked Mr. Kurze and always tried to do what he said when he could. He headed out the door, leaving Mr. Kurze hunched over and staring through the Hufflepuff spy-hole at the Duelling Society below.

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Next chapter: The Duelling Society, Seraph Cahzer and more.

Reviews are always appreciated:)


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